Save the World and Get Home by Curfew
by horseluv386
Summary: The Invincible Iron Man. The Mighty Thor. The Incredible Hulk. Captain America. The Black Widow. The Amazing Hawkeye. The world's mightiest heroes... the Avengers. But who are they really? What do they have to deal with in real life? Most people don't wonder about that... but then again, most people don't know that the Avengers are all in high school.
1. Torch it up with homemade dynamite

**Full Summary: The Invincible Iron Man. The Mighty Thor. The Incredible Hulk. Captain America. The Black Widow. The Amazing Hawkeye. The world's mightiest heroes... the Avengers. But who are they really? What do they have to deal with in real life? Most people don't wonder about that... but then again, most people don't know that the Avengers are all in high school. This is the story of how these heroes came to be, and how they banded together to save the world, time and time again.**

 **Otherwise known as an AU where the Avengers and several supporting characters are born between 10 and 20 years later than they were in cannon, but the Avengers still become superheroes. Timeline is accelerated, and comic ageing-rules apply (everyone stays the exact same age). Also, these will try to stay to the MCU events, but comic cannon could be used too. Rated T for language, but these kids are too young to do anything other than kiss.**

 **Updating will be VERY slow, but I'll try to make the chapters long, and I promise I won't abandon this! I just have other priorities.**

 **The first superhero up is IRON MAN!**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: PART ONE: TORCH IT UP WITH HOMEMADE DYNAMITE_

* * *

"Really, Dad?" asked Tony, full of hope. "Can I really go with you to the Jericho missile testing?"

"Of course you can, son," his father stated reassuringly. "One day, you'll be running Stark Industries, and you need to see how that is done. After all, you came up with the idea for the missile, and you helped with most of the creation process. You did well."

Tony swelled with pride at the compliment. Ever since he had first picked up a wrench, his dad had demanded that everything was in the right place, everything was assembled in the correct order, with the best parts, without shortcuts, without _fault_. It had grown to a point where his dad seemed to never be pleased with him, and Tony had been fearful of sharing his projects. Tony thought that his thin shoulders weren't going to hold up under the pressure much longer. To know that his father was pleased with him, to know that he would be rewarded without being scrutinized first, meant the world to him.

Howard sighed, slowly rising from his seated position on Tony's king-sized bed. "We'll be leaving in a day, and we'll be over in Afghanistan for three. I will conduct the Jericho testing as soon as we arrive, and the rest of the time will be in meetings with officials, some of them that you may be able to attend. Pack light and thoughtfully; you'll be representing Stark Industries. We need to make a good impression on the Army officials. No Stark snark."

"Even with Rhodey?" Tony whined playfully. Sure, he was fourteen and already a junior in high school, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"Whenever you are around the rest of the officials, no snark," replied Howard stoically. Then, his strong facade broke down and he grinned. "By ourselves? Knock yourself out."

This was going to be the best trip ever.

* * *

Tony grinned, breathing heavily as he and his father climbed out of the white Audi onto the runway. For the last half-mile before they reached the airstrip, his dad had allowed Tony to drive. Sure, he was only fourteen, but the Stark fortune gave the authorities the incentive to look the other way, even if they caught a glimpse of a minor driving with blatant disregard for the speed limit. In fact, Tony had driven fast enough that they had made up for the time he had wasted saying goodbye to his mother.

His mother…

Tony's mother, Maria Stark, was a strong, capable woman, displayed by the fact that she was the third most powerful person in Stark Industries, after his dad and Obadiah Stane. Mariah Stark was also perhaps the person Tony loved the most in the world. He loved his father almost as much, of course, but there was always that strain to be perfect around him. Tony's relationship with his mother wasn't burdened by any obligations.

A normal person would probably judge Tony for blatantly admitting that yes, he was on better terms with his mother than his father and he therefore loved his mother more.

Tony knew, however, that a normal person could never judge the Starks.

The young genius was jolted out of his thoughts when his father grasped him gently by the shoulder, guiding him toward a small jet. Standing by the door was Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, or Rhodey as Tony liked to call him. Tony smiled at the man as they entered the plane, but when Rhodey didn't respond, the smile quickly escalated into a smirk. Time to have some fun. "Hey, LC. At ease? Stand down? Anything? Don't you have to listen to orders in the Army? Come on, lighten up. God knows you can't resist a dose of me."

Rhodey struggled to hold back a grin as the group moved to their seats within the plane. "I'm just following my orders from my higher-ups, Anthony, which clearly take precedence over your requests. I can't trust you if I don't want a repeat of last month's situation."

Tony groaned good-naturedly. "First of all, it's just 'Tony'. I've told you that a billion times, and you always end up ignoring me, one way or another. Secondly, my orders must matter if it's what you want to do! Chill. Finally, nothing irreparably bad happened last month, just to get that established."

"Like you call three crashed Mercedes-Benz race cars 'nothing irreparably bad'?" Rhodey responded, trying desperately to hide his emotions. He finally failed and chuckled. "Sorry, Starkster. Just… don't do anything dangerous this trip, or you owe me another racer."

Tony lightly punched Rhodey's arm. "Try making a bet that actually worries me sometime, Rhodey."

* * *

As the plane landed about twelve hours later, Tony heard his dad's phone ringing. When he snuck a look at the screen, he could see that the caller was Obadiah Stane, his dad's right hand man and the vice CEO of Stark Industries. Tony hoped he could talk to Obadiah; the older man was one of his best friends. Whenever the kids at school had been teasing him about his brains, or how young he was to be in eleventh grade, Obadiah was always the one he turned to. The man brought on a sense of fatherly love that even Howard couldn't. Talking to him would calm Tony down, then and now.

"Dad, can I talk to Obadiah after you're done?" Tony asked quietly. His father gave a shrug, and Tony sat deeper in his seat, growing more impatient as his father and Obadiah discussed the company. Fortunately, after about ten minutes, the phone was passed to him. "Hi, Obie!"

" _Hello, Tony!"_ the older man exclaimed quietly. " _It's nice to hear from you."_ Tony let himself relax in the voice, but then noticed something was wrong with that familiar tone.

"You have a hitch in your voice, it doesn't sound right," Tony stated, not bothering to hide his curiosity. "Are you sick?"

Obadiah seemed to pause for a second, but he then recovered. " _Yeah, just a bug that's going around. I'll be fine. Just need a little… break from Stark. The company, of course."_

"Perfect timing," Tony responded sarcastically. "Just now, with Dad away and you in charge of the company, you decide that you need some R&R." His tone softened. "I do understand that feeling, though. Everything must be driving you up the wall."

Obadiah laughed a little. " _Well, I just finished up the last meeting with some potential… investors for SI. It's about midnight; I need to get some rest, since my first meeting is at 6 a.m. Hear from you later?"_

Tony sighed, disappointed that the conversation was so short. "Fine, goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the stockholders bite." He paused, working out a final quip. "You aren't wearing those pajamas I got you. Are you?"

" _Goodnight, Tony,"_ groaned Obadiah. The call ended.

Tony smirked to himself. Obadiah was the one person he could tease without ever getting in trouble, since the man had no hard feelings against, well, anybody.

"Sir?" inquired Rhodey. Tony realized that the man had been patiently waiting for the duration of the phone call to make his point. "We must be on our way to the testing site."

"Let's move along, then," his father responded.

* * *

At least fifteen minutes after the demonstration had been scheduled to take place, the small party that had been on the plane arrived at a small field, looking over a rocky, scrubby mountain range. Several men, standing tall in military uniforms, glared at Tony's dad when the trio finally climbed out of the 4x4. His father nodded to the group. "I apologize, gentlemen, but I was held up by unavoidable business." Tony glanced down guiltily, knowing that his conversation with Obadiah, however short, hadn't helped matters.

One man, boasting an admirable array of medals on his chest, stiffened. "I do believe that this presentation was classified as unavoidable business."

Howard Stark straightened, bringing his height even with that of the angry officer's. "I do believe that the agreement between us was, and I quote, 'The Army will not meddle in the affairs of Stark Industries, and Stark Industries will not meddle in the affairs of the Army, unless a clear reason has been named and agreed upon.' I do not believe that this circumstance falls under that category. Now, if you please, I will continue with the weapon test, unless you would prefer to wait longer."

The angry CEO of Stark Industries waited until the officer bowed his head and muttered, "Proceed." Tony was awed by this show of strength, smarts, and wit by his father, using something as innocent as a phone call to exercise his authority. Tony knew that he had quite a ways to go before he mastered the show of strength, although personally, he thought he was close to his father's skills in the latter qualities.

Tony watched in awe as his father walked up to the head of the Army men. His father stood proud and tall, practically basking in the glory. Part of Tony thought that this was totally inappropriate for the weapons test. A bigger part of Tony thought that he would have done the exact same thing. His father cleared his throat and began his speech.

"They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once. That's how my father did it, that's how America does it, and it's worked out pretty well so far. I present to you the newest in Stark Industries' Freedom line. Find an excuse to let one of these off the chain, and I personally guarantee, the terrorists won't stray a step out of line."

As Tony watched, the missile was activated. A bomb flew into the air, splitting into sixteen separate parts, just as he had designed the weapon to work.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for your consideration…"

The smaller bombs landed in the mountains behind the group.

"The Jericho."

As the bombs, strategically spaced apart, exploded, they set off a huge shock wave, rushing toward the group. Tony blinked and shielded his eyes as he watched the explosions combine into one, the rush of air blowing off the soldier's hats even from this distance. His dad didn't even flinch.

 _I wish I could be that strong,_ Tony thought longingly.

As his dad made some witty comments to the men waiting, Tony let out a deep breath. His missile—the one from his own brain, his first real contribution to the company—had worked perfectly. He could see his dad, talking with the officers, nodding in his direction. When his dad saw him watching, the man offered a small smile.

His dad's approval was the most important thing in Tony's world.

Soon, the group began to disperse, hopping into trucks to reach the military base. Soon, all that was left were Tony, his father, Rhodey, twenty other soldiers, and two separate convoys. As Howard guided Tony into one of the vans, the young genius could see that Rhodey was boarding a different transport convoy, along with ten of the soldiers and a few high-ranking officers. He called out to his dad's friend, "You'll be sorry! This is the fun-vee, not the hum-drum-vee! See you back at base!"

Rhodey continued to smile as Howard groaned and pushed Tony into the transport truck, climbing in after. Tony found himself sandwiched in-between his father and a young soldier, barely out of training. As the driver started up the vehicle, Tony found his enthusiasm dying down, uncomfortably aware of his father's presence as the four-truck convoy left the testing site.

Tony wasn't afraid of his father, of course. The man had never laid a hand on him, had never made him feel truly scared. Howard Stark had a deep bond with his son, and both were aware of it. That bond, however, actually made it harder for Tony to disobey his father. When he did something wrong, his father's disappointment showed through, shaming Tony into trying to be better, to live up to the legacy that Howard had handed him the moment he was born.

Howard, however, had also handed Tony impulse, and that took precedence over legacy right now.

"I feel like you're driving me to a court-martial," Tony commented, hoping his voice didn't betray his doubts of speaking. Fortunately, only snark had been present, and he caught a glimpse of the young soldier trying to bite back a laugh. "This is crazy. What did I do? I feel like you're going to pull over and snuff me."

Although the young soldier was hiding a smile behind a hand, Tony couldn't glimpse the reactions of the two up front, not without a vocal assertion. "What, you're not allowed to talk?"

The soldier sitting shotgun shook his head. "No, we're allowed to talk, sirs."

Oh. Right. He wasn't alone. Tony looked to his father, but to his surprise, Howard was keeping a straight face, and was that _mirth_ in his eyes? Sure sign to continue. "Oh, I see," he resumed. "So it's personal?"

The driver responded with a tired, "No, you intimidate them," and good God she's a woman. Tony couldn't have called that.

"Well, think about it," Tony said quickly, hiding his surprise effectively. "You, the people who are fighting to keep our country free, intimidated by a fourteen-year-old? Sure, I'm a genius and help empower you to keep the country free, but relax. You're the ones with the guns." When the soldier next to Tony tried to hide his smile, Tony waved a hand. "Come on, it's okay, laugh."

The soldiers started to chuckle despite themselves, and the tense atmosphere in the truck dissipated. The young soldier glanced at the Starks and raised his hand. "Is it cool if I take a picture with you two?"

Tony glanced back at his dad, who merely smiled and answered, "Yes, it's very cool."

The young soldier smiled, handing a small camera to the man riding shotgun, and posed next to the Starks. When he threw up a peace sign, Tony shook his head and quipped, "Please, no gang signs." When the soldier lowered his hands, however, Tony sighed. "No, throw it up. I'm kidding. Yeah, peace. I love peace."

"We'd be out of a job without peace," added in Howard.

The three continued to pose, while the soldier up front fiddled with the camera. The young soldier grinned in amusement. "Come on, hurry up. Don't change any settings." The soldier up front groaned and fiddled the camera even more, no doubt changing back wacky settings. Tony giggled, and for a second, he felt like a normal kid. Not a Stark, but just Tony, taking a selfie with some friends. (He might not currently _have_ any real friends his age, but the sentiment was what counted.)

All of that suddenly changed forever.

A huge explosion suddenly shook the truck. Tony looked out the windshield to see that one of the trucks in front of them had simply exploded. A glance behind showed the final truck, just in the process of blowing up. Bullets started cutting through the stunned silence, shocking the soldiers out of their daze.

"Contact left!" screamed the driver, stopping the car, jumping out of her seat and grabbing her gun. She opened the door and started out, but she was cut down by continued fire after only a few steps. Tony gulped, and quietly asked, "What's going on?"

Everyone ignored him, as the other soldier made to leave the truck. "Jimmy, stay with the Starks!" He used the front of the truck as cover, but the soldier could only make three or four shots before he too fell.

"Son of a bitch!" exclaimed the young soldier - Jimmy. He loaded his gun and opened the door. Howard suddenly lost his cool. "No, no no! Stay here - at least give me a weapon -"

Jimmy was already outside, firing. A machine gun shot cut through him seconds later. Tony glanced down, trying not to think about the three dead soldiers, whom twenty seconds ago, he had been laughing with. His brain veered, but suddenly, his father moved, opening the door, gesturing for him to hurry. Without thinking, Tony followed him.

Together, they dashed across the open ground, taking cover behind a large rock. Howard partially shielded Tony with his body while pulling out his phone, furiously dialing a number. Before the elder Stark could finish, a mine landed several yards away from them. Tony only had time to read the words painted on the side of the device - Stark Industries - before he was in motion, throwing himself across his father's body to shield the older man.

 _Boom._

Pain, flaring through his chest. His dad is yelling above him, but he can't make out the words. He feels his shirt being ripped open, and he felt the pain flare up when his chest is prodded. But wasn't his chest supposed to be covered by the bulletproof vest? He risks a glance at the area, and all he sees is red, flaring up, staining his father's hands with his blood. He should have gone in the hum-drum-vee after all. This shouldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening.

But it is.

* * *

 **The song for this chapter is "Homemade Dynamite", because it talks about lies - like the lies Tony entertains, that the weapons will bring peace one day - and destroying everything in your life because of yourself - Tony's life is never going to be the same, and it's all because of his own weapons.**

 **Please tell me how I'm doing, and no flame. I can only make this story better if you tell me how! I will respond to all reviews, either privately or publicly.**

 **About the story... should Yinsen be in this story? I know he connects Tony to Gulmira, but I don't want an overage of characters, and there are already two in the terrorist's clutches. Tell me!**

 **See you next story!**

 **~Horseluv**


	2. I don't wanna let you go

**Holy sh*t! I knew that my stories would get more recognition if I did a story on something popular, but I didn't expect this much! As a reward, you guys get this chapter early, and even longer than planned!**

 **Trigger warning for this chapter because terrorists don't care how old Tony is, and if you remember what they did to him in Iron Man 1... So, trigger warning.**

 **Tony might seem a little weak in this chapter, but this is because he's only fourteen. He hasn't gotten as good at hiding his emotions as he was in the original Iron Man movies.**

 **And no Yinsen. I just didn't think he was that necessary in this story.**

 **I forgot the disclaimer last time, but I'm pretty sure you know that I don't own any rights to anything Marvel. Otherwise, this story would have been a reality, written by the best writers available.**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: PART 2: I DON'T WANNA LET YOU GO_

* * *

Tony awoke to the sounds of quiet murmuring, the glare of harsh lights, and pain in his chest. Actually, no, not just pain. Normal pain was bearable, and he could get over himself easily. Hell, Tony had broken his arm pretty badly when he was five years old, and he hadn't shed a tear. Not even when it was being set (and that, by far, had been the worst pain he had felt in his life).

This, however, was different. This felt like a knife was being repeatedly stabbed and twisted into his chest, and he had to bite down a whimper as it suddenly increased, now that he was fully aware of himself. Tony rubbed his face wearily, suddenly becoming aware of a long tube running up his nose. He grabbed the offending device and pulled, letting out a tiny moan as he realized just how deep it had been. Glancing towards the table beside the cot he was lying on, he caught sight of a small cup of water. Tony reached out to grab it, but his shaking fingers wouldn't cooperate, knocking the cup to the ground with a loud clatter.

"Tony?" called out a familiar voice. Howard came running over, straight up to the cot and kneeling down next to it. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm being stabbed with a knife repeatedly," answered Tony honestly.

"Do… do you remember what happened?" asked his father tentatively, re-filling the cup with water. "After… the explosion?"

The young genius shrugged as best he could while lying down. "Bits and pieces. A lot of yelling. They transported us somewhere. The pain that I'm feeling right now. A man's face… how long have I been out of it?"

Howard looked uneasily at the ground. "Since we've arrived here, you've been unconscious for three days."

"Three days?" repeated Tony incredulously. "That long? I mean, sure, I got hurt, there was an explosion, but it wasn't that bad…" He trailed off as he saw his father's expression. "Right?"

Howard sighed tiredly. "I'll be completely honest with you. When you dived in front of me, back at the convoy? You… you took a chest-full of shrapnel. You were unconscious in the next couple minutes. Then, _they_ took us. They brought us here. And they want us alive for something, I can tell that much. Made a bragging video about how "We have the Starks" and everything. And there was a captured doctor here, earlier. His name was Yinsen, he was a good man. When _they_ saw your wound…" Here Howard stopped, gathering his breath, not wanting to continue on.

Tony, on the other hand, didn't want his dad to spare the details because, dammit, he needs to know the truth. White lies won't help heal his brain any more. "So? When they saw my wound…" he prompted.

"They forced Yinsen to operate on you," Howard stated, looking down, his shoulders shaking. "To get as much shrapnel out as possible. Open heart surgery. Without antibiotics or anesthesia."

Wow. Okay. He didn't just _feel_ like he had been repeatedly stabbed, he actually _was_ repeatedly stabbed. Tony pushed away the thought and focused on the careful wording his father had chosen. "What do you mean… as much of the shrapnel as possible?"

Howard looked up at his son's face, and Tony was struck by how much grief and guilt was in his eyes. "Tony, some of the shrapnel, it was just too close to your heart. _Is_ too close to your heart. It's still in you. Yinsen didn't have a choice. He… he had to… implant an electromagnet in your chest."

Tony's head whirled. What? An electromagnet was the only thing keeping him alive right now? Almost subconsciously, he gently prodded his chest, and _oh god something metal was definitely there_. His breaths started coming in shorter and shorter bursts, and he gasped for air, and _yeah that thing was deep_. He could almost feel the casing, pressing against his lungs. Tony reached for the bandages covering his chest, and ripped them off despite Howard's gentle protests. Sure, he knew the thing was there, but seeing it, a metal device _inside of him_ , hooked up to a car battery, just solidified it.

He was never going to be normal again.

His father held him as Tony wept.

* * *

"Where's Yinsen now?" asked Tony quietly, a few hours later. His father looked up from his cooking, before glancing down and sighing again.

"The terrorists said they had need of him 'elsewhere'," answered Howard. "He told me he was going to a place called Gulmira. No idea why."

Tony nodded, then looked dejectedly at the car battery. "How much charge does that thing have, anyway?"

Howard looked up guiltily, but just before he could begin to speak, a fierce pounding came from the door. Tony shrank back as Howard leaped to his feet, pulling Tony along with him. "Follow my lead," he hissed vehemently.

A group of men entered the room as Howard raised his hands behind his head, gesturing for Tony to do the same. Tony, on the other hand, was distracted by other matters. "What? They have our guns? How do they have -"

"Be quiet," hissed Howard, voice sharp but also fearful. The young genius obeyed, knowing that anything that could scare his dad must be very, _very_ dangerous.

The bearded man in front began speaking in a harsh voice, giving the pair a wide, false smile. A small, wiry man behind stepped forward and began translating in broken English. "He say, 'Welcome, Starks, most famous mass murderers in history of America. He is honored.

"He want you to build missile. Jericho missile, you demonstrated. This one." The bearded man held out a picture, clearly the Jericho.

"I refuse," answered Tony hotly, almost before he could think things through.

The next thing he knew, he was being plunged underwater, over and over again, to the cadence of his father's enraged screams. The electromagnet sparked, burning his skin. He gasped for air, only finding water. Images flashed in his head, over and over, until his head whirled and he went limp.

That was what the terrorists had been looking for; Tony was pulled out of the water, and he and Howard were shoved forward, their heads suddenly bagged. Lugging his car battery along, Tony tried to gaze through the burlap sack, but he only saw random orbs of light until they came a round, bright hole - the cave's mouth. The bags were ripped from their heads, and Tony gazed out in amazement at the encampment. Underneath camouflage netting were hundreds of metal cases, wooden boxes, and bomb cases; all emblazoned with the proud symbol of Stark Industries.

"This is worse than I thought," muttered Howard.

The bearded man motioned to the men holding the two, and the Starks were shoved forward, down a rocky set of steps. Tony stumbled, still disoriented from the torture, but Howard grabbed his arm. Tony glanced up at his father's face; upset was a complete understatement for the expression that Howard wore. The younger Stark nodded to his father, assuring him that he was O.K. (although would he ever really be O.K. after this?)

They were stopped in front of the bearded man again, who spoke to them again. His translator appeared by his side and intoned, "He want to know what you think."

"I think you got a lot of our weapons," growled Tony softly. Howard put a shaking hand on his shoulder and gave a sharp squeeze. The young genius fell silent.

"He say we have everything you need to build Jericho missile," continued the translator, as the bearded man continued to speak. "Make list of materials. He say for you to start working immediately, and when done, he set both of you free." The bearded man held out his hand expectantly.

Howard pasted on a fake smile, a smile that only someone who knew him - like Tony - could see through. The older Stark reached out and shook the man's hand, apparently agreeing to the terms. The translator nodded and left, and once he was out of earshot, Howard, smiling all the more, told Tony, "He won't give us freedom."

"No he won't," agreed Tony, wearing an equally fake, slightly shakier smile.

* * *

"They're looking for us, but they'll never find us in these mountains," ranted Howard, back at the room. "And now? Outside? That's my life's work. _Our_ life's work, in the hands of those murderers!"

"Dad?" interrupted Tony quietly. "You never answered my question, before… before _they_ came. How long will the electromagnet last?"

Howard looked at Tony then, and his gaze was so guilt-filled that Tony wanted to get up and physically _comfort_ the man. Which wasn't necessary. Stark men were invulnerable to pain. They could rise above pain, and guilt, and sorrow… at least, he had been told that so many times before that it had become true to him.

"The magnet," responded Howard finally, brokenly, "will only have enough power for another four days. Then the shrapnel… I've been trying to find a self-sustaining power source, any power source at all, but I… I can't find anything. I've failed you."

When Howard started _crying_ , Tony was shocked, stunned, amazed, all of that. Disbelief reigned over all of these rampant emotions. Howard Stark, the world's smartest man, a self-made billionaire, the man who could control army generals with a few well-placed words, was breaking down right in front of him. Tony's world was really never going to be the same, was it? If he survived to see it, anyway. Why was it that his father crying generated more of a reaction than his imminent death?

The young genius sat awkwardly next to his father, resting a hand on the man's knee. His brain started working, running through different power sources, so many power sources. Self-sustaining. So some sort of reactor. Nothing nuclear, of course. Something clean, with as little waste as possible. Wait… what about an ARC reactor? The one back at Stark Industries headquarters generated such a huge amount of energy for its size, and all completely waste-free… if he could find a way to miniaturize it… it just might work.

"Dad," whispered Tony urgently. "I have an idea."

Howard looked up in confusion. "What?"

Tony smirked, some of his old Stark snark coming back. "This is a very important four days for me. Better make it count."

* * *

"If this is going to be our work station," called out Howard, about an hour later, "I want it well lit. I want these up." The translator stood next to him, shouting out orders to the crowd of men in the chamber, bringing in supplies. "We need welding gear, don't care if it's acetylene or propane." When the translator gave a questioning look, Howard waved his hand in annoyance. "I don't care what type. We need a soldering station. We need helmets. Gonna need goggles, a smelting cup, two sets of precision tools…"

Tony watched from the sidelines, watching the activity. His father was back, exercising his power, not taking no for an answer. No signs of the broken man remained.

If his father was always this good at hiding his true feelings, did Tony really know Howard Stark?

The next morning, the two bent over a Stark Industries missile, pulling out the complex innards. As Tony worked, isolating certain parts of the device, he asked his father, "Who are these people anyway?"

Howard pulled a sardonic smile. "They are our loyal customers, and they call themselves the Ten Rings." The older Stark stayed silent for a while before adding in, "You know, we could be more productive if you include me in the planning process. We're supposed to be building the missile together, after all."

"Don't I know it," muttered Tony, pulling the nose cone off of the missile and revealing a complex device. He carefully extracted a sliver of metal, throwing the rest of the device backwards and muttering, "We don't need this."

"What metal is that?" asked Howard, desperately wanting to be in on what his son was planning.

"Palladium, 0.15 grams," responded Tony. "We need at least 1.6, so why don't you busy yourself breaking down the other 11?"

"Palladium," Howard mused aloud, even as he opened up a missile. "Now what could that be used for? Wait… wait… You can't be serious!"

"If I wasn't serious, I wouldn't be wasting my time on this," replied Tony, half-sarcastically. "Get to work, Pops."

As Howard decimated more missiles, Tony packed clay into a small bowl, and created a narrow mold. After several painstaking hours, Howard held the smelting cup over the fire, melting the 1.6 grams of palladium. He carefully rose up, walking to the prepared mold. Tony stood by him, muttering, "Careful. Careful, we only have one shot at this."

"Relax, I have steady hands," responded Howard as he poured out the palladium. "How do you think I got this far in life as an inventor?"

Tony gave a small smile, concentrating as he watched the metal cool. After five minutes, he gently pulled the thin ring out. The boy genius carefully dropped it into a larger ring, and raised it to a stand. He carefully wrapped wiring around the outer edges, intricately looping and affixing it.

Over the next few days, Tony set up a row of components, lined up as how they would fit in the device. On the evening of the third day since he had woken up in a cave, he pulled the last wire into place, and the device lit up, starting to generate electricity, which ran through the cords that were affixed to that accursed electromagnet. Tony let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he had been holding in. The device worked. He was going to get out of this.

Howard wandered over to his son's side, gazing in awe at the generator. "Wow. It really works."

"Yep," replied Tony. "Miniature ARC reactors are possible, after all."

"How much can this one generate?" asked Howard.

"If my math is right, and it always is, three gigajoules per second," the young Stark informed.

"That could run a heart for 50 lifetimes," murmured Howard in awe.

"Or it could run something big for 15 minutes," said Tony, ready to launch into his next point.

"What?" asked Howard. "What are you planning now?"

"I'm planning to get our ticket out of here," responded the young genius, handing his father a stack of translucent blueprints as he fumbled with the ARC reactor. "Flatten them out and look."

Howard flattened out the papers onto the desk, as Tony came up, having locked the reactor onto the electromagnet. He didn't miss his father's look of amazement, or that twinge of pride.

"Impressive," Howard murmured quietly, as he gazed upon the Iron Man suit prototype.

* * *

Over the next two months, the two worked constantly to finish the suit. What made their work even harder was the fact that they had to keep up appearances on the Jericho missile's progress. Sure, they could openly work on circuitry, plating, and even motors without the Ten Rings getting suspicious, but if nothing was getting assembled, they were asking for trouble. Too bad they couldn't realize that the 'Jericho' was nothing more than an empty shell.

Tony sighed, getting up from his seat in front of a complex set of circuits. Today marked the second month since the bomb, the second month that they had been missing. Hopefully, they wouldn't be in here much longer. If they continued to put in the same average amount of time of work, the suit would be done in three days. One half-hour of loading up the suit and one big fiery battle later, they would be free.

Howard came over from where he was working. "Tony? Can you help me weld this piece of the suit?" Tony nodded, coming over and grabbing a welder. He fired it up and held it over the iron plate, but a sudden slamming on the door had him turning the welder off and holding his hands behind his head, as Howard did the same.

As gunners came in, brandishing their rifles, Tony spotted their friend the bearded man, but he moved into the ranks of the soldiers, forming two long columns. _So he's not the highest-up, after all._ Between the rows came a bald man with a beak nose, swaggering for all it was worth. He came up and gazed at Tony and Howard, and then told them, "Relax."

Both of the Starks slowly lowered their hands, mildly surprised at this turn of events. Beak Nose came up to Tony and tapped his chest, right on the ARC reactor. Turning away, he started the standard villain monologue.

"The bow and arrow once was the pinnacle of weapons technology. It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific to the Ukraine. An empire twice the size of Alexander the Great and four times the size of the Roman Empire." The man stopped in front of the desks and riffled through the Iron Man plans, thankfully not fully realizing just what it was. "But today, whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands. And soon, it will be my turn."

Okay, the man was clearly pissed that they hadn't gotten farther on the Jericho missile. Who wouldn't be? He had tortured these people, and they were still defying him? Tony didn't want to know what he would do.

He didn't have a choice in that matter, as the bald man barked an order to two of his goons. They grabbed Howard and pushed his head onto the anvil, and the bald man plucked a coal from the campfire. "Mr. Stark, we have noticed that you are not the one building our missile. Your son is. Why, then, should you still be here?"

Oops. Tony, despite his best efforts, had still tipped off that he was the one behind all of the designs. Nevermind that they were designs for the Iron Man, not the Jericho.

To Tony's horror, Beak Nose started pushing the coal towards Howard's face. Howard didn't even try to struggle, just closed his eyes and _waited_. Tony couldn't wait.

"Stop!" Immediately, all of the terrorist's guns were trained on him. The genius raised his hands above his head once again, and glanced at his father. Howard's face was no longer resigned, but fearful - for Tony. Meanwhile, Beak Nose looked with a hint of amusement at the younger Stark. Tony tried to ignore this, and continued speaking. "I need him. No one can build a Jericho alone."

Beak Nose seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he dropped the coal, a few inches from Howard's face. He turned with a sweep, marching ahead of his forces. "You have till tomorrow to assemble my missile," he intoned, before leaving the room with his forces behind him. Tony waited until the door had slammed behind the terrorists before rounding on his father. "What were you THINKING? You didn't even try to prove him wrong! You were willing to just let him maim you!"

Howard held up a hand, stopping his son's angry rant. "Tony… what if you were the one in that position, and you knew that anything you said could and would be used against you, with extreme prejudice, on me?" Seeing his son's expression, Howard continued. "You have no idea how they could twist anything I said against you, to make me cooperate. I just… I can't have you in danger. You're more useful to the world than I am.

"Now let's stop discussing this and finish the Iron Man suit."

Tony nodded. "This is gonna be the busiest night of our lives."

* * *

 **The song for this chapter is "Believer" by American Authors, because it talks about someone's faults and how they don't want to let someone go. This relates to Tony and Howard.**

 **Next chapter will be one big thing of escape!**

 **This part of the story will go on for 5 or 6 chapters, so be prepared.**

 **I couldn't get literal translations for Raza's conversation with Yinsen, so I just fudged it. Hope it's still fine...**

 **See you next chapter!**

 **~Horseluv**


	3. It's do or die

**To my lovely reviewers:**

 **Jasmin (Guest): Thank you so much! It'll take a while to get to that point, but I'll try to make it live up to your expectations!**

 **louisagibson5046: Yaaaaaaas indeed!**

 **And guys, I'm not going to be able to update as fast as I have been. My procrastination is very... selective, and schoolwork is on its delay-at-all-cost list. I'll try for every week and a half or so, but...**

 **The song for this chapter is "Battle Cry" by Imagine Dragons. Listen to it while you read this chap, and you'll see why.**

 **Low-key trigger warning, the last for a little bit.**

 **Hopefully you know this, but I don't own anything related to Marvel! i'm just playing in their sandbox.**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: PART THREE: IT'S DO OR DIE_

* * *

Tony grunted as he swung the hammer, back and forth, back and forth. The plate of metal underneath the tongs bent, slowly forming into a curve. The holes in the metal were gently tapped to square them out. Finally, the dome-shaped piece was thrust into a bucket of water. Tony walked forward, laying the piece on the table in front of his father, who was investigating some circuits. Howard glanced up, looking at the Iron Man faceplate. He smiled in triumph.

"That's the last of it," the older Stark confirmed. "Let's get you suited up."

Tony nodded, grabbing a roll of bandages and taping his hands. Howard handed him a leather protection jacket, which Tony pulled on. It was a little big for him, but never mind. He pulled on protective gloves as well. His father affixed a leather neck-guard onto Tony's neck, and the younger Stark stepped over to a . Howard started pulling on the arm and leg coverings, as well as adjusting components.

"Okay? Can you move?" asked the older Stark, as the last main plate was risen up to Tony's level. Tony nodded and flexed his fingers for emphasis. Howard nodded. "Okay, now say it again."

"Forty-one steps straight ahead," Tony rattled off. "Then 16 steps, that's from the door, fork right, 33 steps, turn right."

Howard continued to hook up multiple components of the suit, securing plating, hooking fuel to rockets, and checking wires. Tony watched silently all the while, occasionally murmuring a clarification or two. They worked in companionable silence; at least, until a fierce pounding on the door shook them out of their concentration. Eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room, looking for Howard and Tony; but only the former was currently visible.

"Stark? Stark!" one of the men cried. "Open!" A string of demands followed this, all unfamiliar as Tony didn't speak… whatever language that was.

"Say something back to him!" hissed Tony to his father.

"I know, I know!" Howard whispered urgently, aware of the bomb rigged to the door. "But he's speaking Hungarian. I'm not fluent-"

"It doesn't matter whether you're fluent in Hungarian or not!" Tony hissed. "Say anything that might help!"

Howard paused, thinking wildly, before calling out something that Tony amounted to 'We're here!' or 'Everything's fine!' or 'Don't come in!'. Hopefully. Tony really didn't know a word of Hungarian, so he couldn't quite hazard a guess.

An explosion, shaking the plate that Tony was pressed up against, jarred Tony from his wandering thoughts. Apparently, Howard hadn't gotten through to the terrorists, although whether that was due to a language barrier or a 'I'm a terrorist I won't listen to you' barrier, the younger Stark couldn't be sure. "How'd that work?"

"Oh, God," replied Howard, no doubt gazing at some blown-apart entry. "It worked alright."

"That's what I do," smirked Tony. "They'll be coming around soon, an explosion won't exactly go unnoticed. Initialize the power sequence."

"Okay," muttered Howard, typing precariously on the computer. "Tell me, tell me!"

"Function 11," responded Tony. "There should be a progress bar. Do you see it? Tell me when you -"

"I have it!" interrupted Howard.

"Okay, Control 'I'," continued the younger Stark. "Then enter. 'I' and enter. Okay, come over here and button me up."

"They're coming," hissed Howard, nevertheless coming over and starting to tighten the bolts.

"Every other hex bolt," coached Tony. "Nothing pretty, just get it done."

"They're coming!" repeated Howard, more insistent this time.

Tony shook his head. "Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me out, okay?"

"We need more time," Howard murmured, looking frantically at the slowly loading progress bar. His gaze swept from the monitors to the cave entrance, his lips moving soundlessly. When his eyes landed on Tony, his face hardened in resignation. "I'm gonna go buy you some time."

"Dad!" exclaimed Tony, wary of his father's expression. "Whatever you're thinking, we don't have to do it! Stick to the plan!"

Howard, unheeding, ran past Tony, through the gate, even as Tony screamed at him. The young genius assumed that he must have picked up one of the fallen men's guns, judging by the sudden _budda-budda_ of a gun. His father ran, firing and screaming, up the passageway.

"DAD!" Tony cried out one last time, his voice shaking. He glanced desperately at the progress bar, which was still climbing much too slowly. "No, no, no, no!"

In the background, he could hear his father's shouting, along with the spray of bullets he was shooting out. Both noises suddenly stopped, and then the crack of the guns resumed; but did it sound a little different?

 _No_ , thought Tony sharply. _Dad is fine. Dad is fine. Dad will be fine._

He heard the murmuring of three terrorists, coming into the room. He didn't think of how that meant they had gotten past his father. He only thought that _dammit the blasted progress bar was still loading_! 97… 98… 99…

 _100_.

One terrorist were scanning the room, Tony could hear the footsteps. He reached up and, as quietly as possible, disconnected the cords leading to the suit. He flexed his fingers as he heard a terrorist come near his position. The unsuspecting man crept closer, closer, closer…

 _Give 'em hell_.

Tony reached out and punched the terrorist squarely in the gut, sending the man flying backwards. Frenzied gunfire broke out as he shrank back, creeping along the wall. Bullets pinged straight off of the thick suit, flying every which way. Eventually, the group stopped firing, aware that they were wasting bullets on the Iron Man. This gave Tony his opportunity. The young genius reached the gateway, and the light of his life-giving ARC reactor shined down upon the men, revealing their terrified faces.

Tony wasted no time in giving them an adequate punishment for everything he had been through.

Three punches later, the Iron Man strode forward, bullets no longer chasing it. Tony nervously counted each step, the cave tunnel here much too dark to see in, even with the ARC reactor's light. When another rifle started to crack, and more bullets pinged off of the suit, the young genius growled in annoyance. What if the bullets eventually wore a hole in the suit? He had protection on underneath, of course, but it would only slow a bullet down by a bit. Hopefully, the tin can would hold.

The armor didn't disappoint, and as the shooting terrorist sprang forward with a cry, Tony slammed his left forearm into the man's gut, shoving him into the wall. When another man came, he was slammed forward by a powerful fist, landing several feet back on the path. Tony strode on, with no regrets.

Another man. Seriously, hadn't they figured out that sending people wouldn't get anything done? This guy got flipped end over end, landing painfully on his back.

Three men turned the corner, intending to fight Tony, but when they saw the Iron Man and the decimation of their troops, they turned very quickly and dashed back the other way. The young Stark followed them grimly. _Thirty-five thirty-six, thirty-seven…_

There! He could see the door. Two of the men, being up ahead, hurried behind the door and locked it behind them. The poor third guy was too slow, being left outside. He screamed in terror as Tony bore down on him. The remorseless Iron Man threw him over his head, sending him flying backward. His attention turned from the unconscious man to the door. He gave it a big punch, but it barely buckled. The young genius grit his teeth and slammed harder. This time, a big dent was mashed into the metal. Another punch, and the door was barely on its hinges. A final two-handed shove was enough to send it flying backward, the men scrambling back in its wake. Tony smirked and continued on.

16 steps later, Tony came to the fork in the tunnels. Here, however, there were more terrorists willing to try their hand at beating the Iron Man. As one man ran past, Tony slammed his forearm at the guy's forehead, but while the man was knocked out, one of the Iron Man's arms was now firmly stuck in the cave wall. _Dammit!_ Tony tried to shake his arm loose, jerking back over and over. A _bang_ right next to his head momentarily distracted him, and he turned to see that a man had evidently tried to fire a bullet point-blank into the helmet, and the bullet had proceeded to ricochet and hit the terrorist in the neck. Well, the armor worked.

One more tug, and his arm was free of the enveloping rock. Remembering his father's instructions, Tony forked right, pacing forward. _One. Two Three. Four. Five…_

A single man followed him, but Tony didn't have time for him. The young genius smacked the man in the jaw without even looking behind him, giving a small smile as he heard the crumple of a body. Grimly, but with the slightest tinge of satisfaction, he continued forward.

Until he saw what awaited him.

His father, slumped on a pile of sandbags, one laying over him.

Blood staining his body.

"DAD!" screamed Tony. His head whirled. No, no, no, no… Howard Stark was powerful, with a straight spine and a perpetual smirk. He wasn't lying here, pained, fighting to take a ragged breath…

"Look out," gasped Howard. Tony fought to disengage his brain from analyzing just how _weak_ his father's voice sounded, and glanced over to see their friend Beak Nose, who was just about to fire a rocket launcher. Tony growled in anger and opened up the front arm of the Iron Man suit, where a small rocket was concealed. He pulled back the release and aimed the missile just above the man's head. The rocket whirled merrily on its way, ramming into the ceiling. When the dust settled, there was no sign of Beak Nose, only a pile of rubble.

"Come on, Dad," muttered Tony, rushing over to where his father lay and grabbing the covering sandbag, heaving it out of the way. He looked at his father while raising up the mask. "Come on, we have to go. Move. We can both get out of here. We got a plan, we're gonna stick to it…"

"Wasn't this always the plan, Tony?" asked Howard, his breath rattling. "Only one of us was going to get out of here, and it was always gonna be you. You can save your legacy, be remembered as more than a merchant of death."

"No," denied Tony, frantically. "We're both getting out of here, we'll get you to a hospital, we're gonna see Mom…"

"You're going to see Mom," corrected Howard gently. "This was the only way for either of us to get out, and for you… I would do anything. Tell… tell your mother that I do… and always will love her.

"Don't waste your life…"

Howard closed his eyes and didn't move again.

"No," whimpered Tony one more time, rogue tears slipping from his eyes. Howard was supposed to die at a ripe old age, surrounded by friends and family, or maybe quietly slip away in his sleep. He wasn't supposed to go like this, gasping for breath, bullet wounds in his body, with only one person who cared at all present, a child who had failed to save him…

Tony's hatred for himself slowly turned, directing itself at the men outside… the Ten Rings… those goddamn weapons. He knew what he had to do.

When the hulking metal case of destruction stepped out into the afternoon light, a frenzied voice cried out, and it was immediately struck with a swarm of bullets. They practically hailed upon the thick plating. Each and every one pinged off, the only consequence a slight vibration inside of the suit.

Tony felt like he was getting a massage. True, a very aimless and slightly violent massage, but it was the best analogy.

The Ten Rings insurgents stopped firing, their faces hard, their eyes betraying their fear for this thing that, no matter how hard they tried, just wouldn't give in.

"My turn," whispered Tony, all of that anger, hate, and malice evident in his voice.

He pulled back two levers, just in front of his hands, and flames poured out, engulfing the men and the nearby weapon crates. Screams rang out as the Iron Man stepped forward, aiming the fire directly at all the weapon crates. All of it - wood and metal alike - caught fire, burning like a star.

Was the weapon napalm? Tony couldn't remember. The most important thing right now was destroying those weapons, so they couldn't hurt anyone ever again.

The Iron Man walked down the beaten-down path, the same one that Tony had walked all that time ago, the time when he and his father were offered their freedom.

He would still make the same choice today.

No other family deserved to be as ripped apart as his had just been.

Sudden bullets from up above shook him, harder than Tony had been jarred from the normal bullets. They must have been saving the good stuff for last. He glanced up, but the sun obscured the precise position of the gunman. Another bullet struck him, aimed from someone on the ground, but this one was lucky; it pierced the supports for the right suit leg. Tony fell to his knees, gasping. The bullets were getting thick again, and more of them might get lucky. He blindly aimed his flamethrower in the direction the grounded bullet had come from, but his efforts worked a little too well; the flaming weapons cases started to explode, faster and faster.

Tony struggled to his feet, and opened a small red cap on the inside of the suit arm, pressing the button beneath it violently. The Iron Man rose up into the air, flying away from its prison, leaving a monumental explosion in its wake.

It worked. It had really worked!

That was the last thought Tony had before the repulsors sputtered and died. He arched back to the ground, pieces of the suit coming loose.

"Aaaaaaaaaah!"

 _POOMF._

When Tony's head stopped spinning, he was half-buried in the sand, the Iron Man helmet still precariously balanced on his head, scraps of metal still on him, the rest of the suit in pieces, scattered around him. He reached up, arms aching, and pulled the helmet off. He had to get moving, find somewhere, anywhere, where he could rest, where he could be found.

Right now, he just lay back, the sand as comfortable as a feather bed to him. "The Invincible Iron Man… strikes again."

After a few minutes of contented silence (or as contented as Tony's silence would ever be), he rose up, painfully lifting himself off of the sand. Nothing had really hit him, but that one lucky bullet had probably gotten pretty close to the skin, at least bumping it. Not to mention all those jarrings. He would be fine, though. If he kept moving.

An hour later, he found himself walking, covering his head and upper body with the shade of the leather jacket he had put on. Had it really been just two hours ago? An hour and a half, even? It felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, a faint _chop-chop-chop_ echoed through the empty desert. Tony lifted his head wearily. Had he imagined it? No, that sound was real.

A helicopter rose over the nearby bluff, promising water, relief from the heat, someone to talk to… _home_.

Tony started yelling madly, waving his hands wildly in the air. The 'copter turned, heading for his position. The young genius fell to his knees, a yell of triumph leaving his throat. Close by, the helicopter landed, the hatch opening; the first person out was Rhodey.

Before the ecstatic man could reach his position, Tony discretely pulled his jacket back on, effectively covering the ARC reactor. If Rhodey caught wind of the fact that the young Stark had an electromagnet permanently implanted in his chest, Maria Stark would be the first one notified…

"TONY!" cried Rhodey ecstatically. He caught Tony up and gave him a tight hug, confirming that he was really there. Tony himself was wary that the ARC reactor could be felt through his jacket, but the lieutenant colonel gave no sign of feeling anything strange.

"We found you!" exclaimed the man, ever an expert of stating the obvious. "I'm not gonna lie, that was a real stroke of luck… but… where's Howard?"

Tony sagged in Rhodey's arms, reminded of what had happened. The rush of being rescued left him, and all he could think of was that he was the one rescued… the one going home…

Howard would never get to go home.

Rhodey realized the answer to his own question, and he knew Tony well enough to know that the young Stark would never accept something he didn't believe, or want to believe… without solid evidence.

"Oh, God, Tony…"

Rhodey held him even closer, if that was even possible, as Tony let out all of his emotion in hot, angry, _guilty_ tears. He buried his face in the soldier's shoulder, because Starks were supposed to be motionless pillars of calm.

He let out the tears anyway, because Starks were supposed to take care of their own.

* * *

"Can a medic get a look at him?" asked Rhodey, as the helicopter rose into the air. Tony, who was wrapped in a shock blanket, tear streaks still slightly visible on his face, shook his head.

"I'm only a little banged up around my right thigh," Tony quietly voiced. That was partly true. His thigh had been throbbing since that lucky bullet. He was still, however, pretty sure that his ribs weren't in the best condition, and his lungs were very sore.

If he told them that, however, they would see the ARC reactor.

Why was he so paranoid about someone finding the ARC reactor? Really, his mother wouldn't be that scared; he would probably get in more trouble keeping this from her than telling her outright. Rhodey and Obadiah would never look at him differently.

But secrets leaked out.

If the rest of the world knew… he would be shoved from the side of the spotlight right into the center. People, people, people… and most of them wouldn't have his well-being on the top of their to-do list. They would try to use him to reach their own ends. To make money.

To make money by hurting people.

That would never happen. He would never willingly be the cause of someone's hurt again.

He could keep this close to his chest. He could keep it hidden. He would be nothing but a kidnapped kid, coming home. He wouldn't be anything different. He could stay afloat in the world, if he pretended he knew how to swim.

No one would know otherwise.

Unless he wanted them to.

* * *

 **You can already see Tony's taking a different route than in the movie... I like it so far.**

 **I'm sorry that I killed off Howard, not like you didn't guess already. It's just a good way for Tony to grow. Also, Yinsen is in a town called Gulmira... ;)**

 **Next chapter, Tony goes back to school, and a certain girl protects him with pepper spray... He also works on the armor, and tries to hide it from his mom.**

 **See you then!**

 **~Horseluv**


	4. All work and no play

**Whew, almost twice the size of my normal chaps! This just proves that I'm horrible with writing dialogue and writing from previous content...**

 **This chap is about new characters, Tony's reintegration, and ARC reactors. There's a lot of original content in this, so I'm proud of it!**

 **To my lovely guest reviewer: Thank you! Hopefully this is just as enjoyable :)**

 **The song for this chapter is "Still Sane" by Lorde.**

 **UPDATE: I forgot to mention that I changed where Tony lives. In the movies, he lives in L.A, but for this story to work, he has to live in New York. So, he lives in New York in this.**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: PART FOUR: ALL WORK AND NO PLAY_

* * *

As the ramp of the plane touched down in New York, Tony looked out, blinking at the harsh sunlight. He glanced around, taking in the empty runway. Thank God. No big welcomes. Way too many people had come out to the airfields in Afghanistan and Germany when he had landed there, and those had been military bases. Someone had definitely covered up his arrival.

There was only one vehicle present, a familiar black car, and Tony grinned when he recognized Happy next to it. His expression changed from joyous to longing, however, when he caught a glimpse of the person who Happy had brought.

His mother.

Maria Stark cut a striking figure, with her jet-black hair pinned into a sensible bun, her blouse and pencil skirt a somber black, stilettos glistening. Her emotion was carefully masked, but her son could see that she could barely hold herself back as Tony walked down the ramp, towards her.

When Tony was within several feet of his mother, Maria closed the rest of the distance, pulling her son into a tight embrace. "Oh, Tony," she sighed. "You're safe… it's more than one could ever hope for." She gently let go, and got a good look at him. "Sweetie, are you OK?"

Tony shrugged, glancing down at his arm with distaste. Despite his best efforts, a medic had noticed that he handled it stiffly, and insisted it be put in a sling. At least they didn't try any harder than that to check him over; no one had seen the ARC reactor.

"I'm fine, Mom, now that I'm home," Tony answered softly. "Or at least, as fine as could be expected." OK, where had that come from? Leave it to his mother to pry everything out of him. Her warmth was melting the ice around his feelings.

It couldn't melt the rock around his deepest, darkest secrets.

Maria only pulled Tony into a tighter hug, reading between the lines of his statement. "I know that… it's a lot to take in," she whispered into his ear. _Dad._ "I won't be able to tell you it'll be alright, or that it'll go back to the way things were. But all we can do is look forward, and the future may very well be brighter."

Tony shrugged, not really listening. "OK, Mom."

Maria looked at his face searchingly, then turned with a sigh. "Take us to the hospital, please, Happy."

"No," responded Tony, almost without thinking.

"What?" asked Maria, confused. "Tony, you have to go to the hospital."

"'No' is a complete answer," denied Tony. "I've been in captivity for three months. There are two things I want to do. I want an American cheeseburger. And I want to go home. Talk about the company."

Maria tried to object, but Tony was already climbing into the car. "Come on, Mom. Cheeseburger first." She finally relented, following her son into the car.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Mariah commented, "You know, we can talk about the company here in the car. What is it that you want to talk about?"

Tony sighed, looking straight ahead at the road. "Mom, if I knew that Dad… if I knew what was going to happen, I would have asked him questions. How he felt about what the company did. If he was conflicted, if he had doubts. From what I saw, he wasn't the man that he presented to the world. Our weapons… they were being used to kill Americans, weapons that we made to defend and protect them. We're part of a system that has zero accountability." He glanced at his mother, whose face had gone white.

"They had the weapons? How many? Tony, what happened over there?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

"I had my eyes opened," replied Tony, dancing around her questions as gracefully as he could manage. "Dad realized… I realized… that I have more to offer the world than just things that blow up. So I… I want to shut down all the Stark weapons facilities."

Maria gasped, shock apparent. "Tony, where would you go with this? I would support you in any rational decision you make, but this… the over-under on the stock market drop would be at least -"

"40 points, and we have to do it," Tony interrupted. "Even if we paint a target on the back of our heads. We can make an impact on the world that doesn't hurt anyone. We can go into clean energy, food production, something that'll really help the world."

Maria's mouth opened and closed several times, before she sighed and rested her head on a hand. "Tony, if we're gonna do this… you have to be the one to tell Obadiah."

"So?" asked Tony. "It's not like he's gonna object. He'll stand by me, just like you are now. I'll just coax him into it… or better yet, we make the decision and tell him afterwards. It's sometimes better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission."

Maria frowned pensively. "I see your point, but Obadiah is the CEO of Stark Industries now. He truly holds all the power. Only if you're sure."

Tony laughed. "Not really, Mom. But honestly, the public is going to be on your side, due to the… circumstances. It could be enough to sway the board members. Even without that, this is important to me. We at least have to try."

Tony's mother nodded, still looking thoughtful. "Yes. I can see why you want this so badly, especially after everything. I'll see what I can do."

The young genius shrugged. "You'll do it."

Maria nodded and chuckled. "Pretty much. Let's stop by and see Obadiah now."

* * *

Tony almost cried when he walked into the Stark Headquarters building, about an hour north of New York. He hadn't realized how much he had missed it… or how much a part of it that his father was. Maybe it was just Tony, but even with all the scientists bustling about, the place seemed to lack a certain vibrancy, a certain drive.

"Good morning, Mr. Hogan, Mrs. Stark, Sir," called a voice from overhead. Tony didn't bother looking for the source, 'cause who could forget that voice? "I trust, Sir, that your vacation was enjoyable?"

"JARVIS," Tony responded. "It's good to be back." Thank God for JARVIS. The AI knew just how far to take the jokes before they became painful. Hearing someone talk so nonchalantly about the Afghanistan _incident_ was relieving.

The AI then turned his attention to Maria. "Mrs. Stark, how long will you be staying today?"

"Just for a minute," replied Maria. "Tony here just needs to talk to Mr. Stane for a moment, then we'll be on our way."

"Shall I notify Mr. Stane?"

Mariah nodded, knowing that JARVIS was smart enough to interpret the gesture through his cameras.

With a little bit of grumbling, Tony made his way through the familiar halls, turning every which way, until he came to Obadiah's office. He knocked on the door, but let himself in without waiting for the affirmative.

"Tony!" called out Obadiah, hastily closing his laptop. "How's my boy?"

"I'm fine," responded Tony, glancing around nervously. Why did Obadiah's cheer sound so forced?

The older man noticed the apprehension, and sighed. "Sorry, kiddo. They've been breaking my back as the CEO, and I'm starting to really feel it."

Tony nodded and smiled, commenting, "Well, it's just for a couple years, isn't it? Then I'll take that weight off for you."

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Obadiah, although his smile seemed even more forced now. His temper was growing short if it was anything to go by. Tony decided that the shutdown-of-all-the-Stark-weapons talk could wait until tomorrow, when Obie was in a better mood.

"OK, Obie," sighed Tony, "I just wanted to check in and see how you're doing, so I'll be going now."

Obadiah smiled - why was it that this smile seemed the most genuine? - and gave Tony a pat on the shoulder. "OK, Tony. See you later, kiddo."

Tony spent the walk back to his mother and Happy nervously turning these new observations around in his brain. Why was Obadiah so worn out, when his dad was always so bright and cheerful without even trying? What would Obadiah be so dismissive of Tony? And what was he working on?

The young genius worried over it so much, he almost forgot the imminent problem at hand, but when his mother asked what Obadiah had said, Tony was ready with a "I'll think about it" answer. He knew what would follow; a lot of technical mumbo-jumbo, discussions, before making a decision months in the future. He could tell Obadiah tomorrow without any hiccups. It was fine.

Sure, he was procrastinating. Sure, nothing good ever came out of that. But it would be fine.

He had gotten enough of 'not fine' to last the rest of his life.

* * *

Home.

Finally.

Tony sighed in contentment as they finally reached the Stark's New York home. The family owned a big townhouse in uptown New York, which they stayed in for most of Tony's school year. The young Stark honestly preferred the Malibu house, but he would take New York any day, especially now, with Stark Tower almost prepared for building. The tower was almost set to commence construction; all they needed was a suitable power source. After the events in Afghanistan, Tony had some ideas on that, but it had to wait.

"I missed everything so much," sighed Tony, turning and hugging his mother again. "And I really missed you." OK, so 'really missed' weren't the right words. Truth be told, his mother had been what had kept him going some of those days. How worried she must be, how strong she still was in the face of the crisis, how one day, soon, he and Dad could -

Nope. No. Not thinking about that. 'Really missed' was completely accurate. No problems there.

"I'm glad you're happy, sweetie," replied Maria with a soft smile. "I'll order pizza and you can do what you want until 10. Then you need to try and get some sleep, you have school in two days."

"What?" exclaimed Tony. "Already? Can't I take the week off?"

"You've missed too much school as it is," admonished his mother, "and nothing will be gained by procrastinating."

"Yes, Mother," Tony replied, guiltily. If his mother found out about Obadiah, she was going to lose it. Best to do it tomorrow.

The young genius took the stairs down to the basement of the house, smiling at the familiar workbenches and computer monitors. This workshop was almost an exact replica of the one in Malibu, and he loved it. Now, however, he had to get to work. "JARVIS, you here?"

"Of course, Sir," responded the AI. "What can I do for you?"

Walking over to a crowded table, Tony pushed aside a few papers and carefully unhooked the ARC reactor from the electromagnet, mindful of the wires that still ran between the two devices. Setting it on the table, he called up to JARVIS, "Get me a scan on this, willya?"

After several moments, JARVIS responded, and he sounded… hesitant. "Sir, I have readings on the device, but it has no prior records of ever being developed. From the statistics, am I correct in assuming that this is some form of ARC reactor?"

Tony grinned. "Right on the nose, buddy. Now, efficiency levels?"

"Currently, the device is at a steady 35 percent, depleted by 20 percent from original levels. Regardless of what is being powered, I would recommend an alternative power source."

"And that, my friend, is what we're going to do now," muttered Tony. "I'll give myself two weeks, but this thing better be state-of-the-art. JARVIS, can you get readings on how an electromagnet can be combined with a power source?"

Tony soon realized how much time the ARC reactor was going to require. Well then, he could stop by Obadiah's penthouse after school. It wasn't that out of the way from his drive home.

* * *

School. Tony let out an annoyed huff. This was going to be fun. Usually, he was either ignored or sucked up to here, courtesy of his genius-billionaire status. That, of course, was before his little _adventure_ , and he was unsure of how they would react. Would he be a homecoming king? Would the kids pity him? Would the kids give him fake pity and snicker at him behind his back? Probably the last one. Kids had no compassion these days.

The only sure thing was that things weren't going to be the same.

"You ready, kid?" asked Happy, giving Tony a reassuring smile. "You're gonna kill it."

"Can you take me back home?" muttered Tony, prompting Happy to laugh and push him out of the car. The young genius thanked Happy anyway; it was the man's job, after all.

When Tony entered the halls of Midtown High, he could immediately feel the difference in, well, everyone. In the bustle before first period, kids gave him a wide berth, whispering behind their hands. A few followed him around, watching what he did and talking on their phones to accomplices, reporting for the 'Tony Watch'. Others pretended to ignore him, while still sneaking glances every now and then. Well, they had 100% participation in the 'Stare at Tony' event. Hooray.

Even teachers took part in the impromptu contest. His Chemistry teacher paused for almost a whole minute when his name came up on the roster, while his English teacher had him come up and introduce himself in front of the class. Did those teachers just want to make him squirm? The AP Engineering teacher told him flatly to complete all the worksheets and analyses that had been done in class. Sure, that would only take Tony about two hours, and the teacher probably knew that, but a whole month's workload! Couldn't he just do part of that? In AP Physics, the other extreme was expressed; Tony didn't have to do not only the work he had missed, but any of the current work for a current week. What was he supposed to do for an hour, sleep? Well, he could always use that time for the new ARC reactor. Speaking of ARC reactors, he had a close call in PE. He had managed to change in a bathroom stall, but the coach had tried to put him on the 'skins' team for basketball. Who still does that? Tony had resisted violently, and the coach had eventually relented, but now everyone thought that he had some 'wicked' scars. Which he did. Right around a glowing blue circle embedded in his chest. Lunch had been easy; he just lost everyone and ate in the bathrooms. Melodramatic teenager, anyone?

Finally, he glanced at his schedule and there were only two more classes in the day. History and Calculus. They weren't his favorite classes, but they were manageable. He took a deep breath and started off, the path conveniently cleared for him.

His history teacher was new to the school; he hadn't seen her around campus before. She was an older woman, and she greeted her class very warmly as she counted the heads in chairs. Her eyes paused on Tony's seat for an instant longer than the others, as if trying to place him, then she moved on as if nothing had happened. Well, then. Point for History.

The teacher started the class on their work for the day, before calling Tony up to her desk. The genius got up from his desk as quietly as he could, but every head snapped to him before the teacher admonished them, telling them to focus on their work. Well. A teacher who stopped the class from staring at him. Another point for History.

"Hey, Tony," the teacher greeted quietly. "My name is Ms. Dowe, and I'll be your History teacher this year. I'll be giving you the past week's packets, as we're still covering the specific topic. You'll have a week to complete them. I advise reading the rest of the chapter's that we've covered to get an understanding of them, but it can be done on your own time. You can start this packet now." With that, Tony walked back to his desk, the '3.1' packet in hand. Someone who looked at him objectively, looking at him as not Tony Stark, the kidnapped billionaire, but Tony, the kid who had no choice but to come into school a month late. History was doing way better than his other classes right now.

The period passed quietly, except the various interruptions when Ms. Dowe told off some kid for spending too little time on their work, too much time staring off into space (or at Tony).

The young Stark headed off to Calculus with a slightly more optimistic outlook. Yet another new teacher greeted them at the door, ushering them inside politely and methodically. Tony glanced around the classroom, which was nondescript except for a row of Captain America trading cards, lined up on the teacher's desk. Once again, the genius was called up in front of the teacher, who introduced himself as Mr. Coulson and gave Tony a sheet of review questions. He had 15 minutes to solve the problems, and after that he could get started on the normal problems.

Two minutes later, Tony had completed all the questions and double-checked them. He discreetly pulled out his phone and continued research on tech that could be used in the ARC reactor. Hey, Coulson gave him 15 minutes, and he still had 13 of them left. Might as well use it.

With three minutes left, Tony had saved all the useful studies to his private server, and he started putting his phone back, but the device buzzed, indicating a text message from… Rhodey. What? The Lieutenant Colonel knew his school hours, and never texted during them. Something big must be happening. What was wrong? Was his mom OK? What about their apartment? How was Obadiah?

He pulled up the text message, which simply read, _Can you please explain this?_ Attached was a video file. OK, something wasn't right. Tony pulled out a single wireless earbud, nestling it into his ear and syncing it with his phone. Opening the link, he saw it led to a video clip from some news network.

The person on the podium was his mother, and the banner underneath read "Future of Stark Industries?"

 _No, she wouldn't, she would've checked with Obadiah, she would've discussed it with the company board… oh God I'm dead._

"Good morning to all. Now, to cut to the chase, in the recent aftermath of my son's return to the U.S, he has expressed several views on the purpose of our company. After review of these ideas, I have decided that these ideas will on the whole benefit Stark Industries and the world at large. I entreat that the public will help me in this cause. We will be shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International until we have confirmed what the future of this company will be."

Chaos.

Complete and utter chaos.

Tony was struck out of his daze by the clearing of a throat. He looked up to see Coulson at his desk, but the man didn't seem angry that Tony was using his phone. Instead, he seemed… sympathetic.

"Trouble, Mr. Stark?" the man asked quietly.

"I guess so," Tony responded shakily, resolutely ignoring all the people watching, or whispering, or also pulling out their phones. "Can I get the current work now?"

Math had a way of clearing Tony's mind, so he was almost optimistic when he walked out of Calculus.

That was when he saw it. Every person on campus was on their phone, watching videos - or, more accurately, a video. Every phone had Maria Stark's voice coming out of it.

Oh, shit.

Tony started walking as fast as he could, eventually coming to a side door that led out to a back alley. He texted Happy to meet him at a street corner by the exit of the alley and started running. The genius was about to make it out before he heard the footsteps behind him. Stopping, Tony turned around to see five kids, probably 16 or 17, all advancing angrily towards him.

"You think that your whining can lose our dads their jobs?" snarled one of them. "Well, think again."

Tony backed up nervously, before hitting a wall behind him. The older kids circled around him as he spluttered, "Look, they'll all be offered new jobs when the new division gets up and running, they'll get paid more, I probably have PTSD so you're gonna be in big trouble if you beat me up…" OK, that last one was a lie. He didn't have PTSD, he was sure of it.

When that first blow caught him in the stomach, however, his body curled in on itself, remembering that the last he had been punched in the stomach, he had been brought to that chamber and waterboarded and Howard had still been there and now Howard was - _oh God I have PTSD_.

He was reduced to a shivering ball, protecting his head and chest against all odds, trembling harder with each fist. The kids had stopped laughing, but they still whaled him with fists, until they suddenly paused in their onslaught.

Tony slowly uncurled, but the second his chest was exposed, he heard the whistle of a punch coming; they must have figured out how to get him to expose himself. Tony was too frozen to react. He was wildly thinking of excuses as to exactly what the dude's hand had slammed against, when a voice screamed, "Stop!"

Tony's eyes inched open to find a fist an inch away from his chest, right above the ARC reactor. The young Stark inched away as fast as he could, as his savior came into view. He faintly recognized her from around the school, but she wasn't in any of his classes. The girl had long, strawberry-blonde hair and freckles. Probably one of the ones who pretended not to stare at him.

"And why should we stop?" asked the biggest kid. Funny, they had already stopped. "This kid has to pay."

"No matter what he did, he doesn't need to pay in bruises," the girl answered hotly. "Now go. Don't bother him any more."

OK, the girl definitely hadn't seen his face. No one would ever say that about Tony Stark.

The group seemed to consider, then the leader advanced on the girl. "You don't tell us what to do, sister. Now run back home and don't mess with us."

The girl walked up to him and gazed into his face, before pulling out a can and spraying a mixture straight up his nose. She brandished the can in front of the others, as the guy wheezed in panic behind her. "Pepper spray. Undiluted. Get the hell away or you'll get the same treatment."

Needless to say, Tony and the girl were alone in the alley in a matter of seconds. Hmm, she needed a better name than 'girl'. Well…

"Oh my God, are you OK?" asked the girl, running up to him. Slowly, Tony managed to get his breathing back to a normal rate, though he still covered his face with his arm.

"Sure. You know, Pepper, I probably deserved that beating anyway," half-quipped Tony, as he wearily rubbed his face.

"My name's Virginia, and no one deserves to be bullied," an indignant Pepper corrected.

Sitting up, Tony glanced at Pepper, feeling a little satisfaction at how quickly her face turned pink from embarrassment. "Look me in the eye, Pepper, and tell me that I don't deserve it," he said quietly.

Embarrassed, but still defiant, she made eye contact and whispered, "No one - especially you - deserves to be bullied."

"Wow, that's a first," remarked Tony, after a pause. "Someone's being honest about me being basically the same as everyone else. Well, besides my History teacher, but that's her job. You're not getting paid for this, are you?"

Pepper chuckled, and a somewhat comfortable silence settled in between the two, before Tony broke it.

"I need to go, so I can - um - take care of stuff," he said haltingly. "I'll be fine. Thank you for, um, pepper-spraying those kids, Pepper."

"No problem," replied the redhead, resigned to her new nickname. "I guess that, I'll see you around?"

"Definitely," replied Tony, slowly rising to his feet.

While he ran to Happy's car, and all through the tense car ride to Obadiah's, he tried to only think of Pepper. She was nice, he could tell. Actually had a set of morals, actually believed that everyone deserved the best; pretty rare in today's world. Not to mention the fact that she was rather pretty. He liked her for who she was, definitely.

When they pulled up in front of Obadiah's apartment building, however, Tony couldn't help but worry about what would happen inside. He had seen Obadiah angry, sure, but Obadiah's anger was never directed at him. He didn't know what to expect.

Time to turn on the Stark snark.

"Well, that… that stunt went well," commented Obadiah as Tony walked through his door. Funny, the man didn't seem too angry. Tony almost glanced down, but he internally sighed and smoothed his indifferent mask.

"Did I just paint a target on the back of my head?" he asked. A little joking, not too much or Obadiah would get angry again. A valid question.

He already knew the answer - had known it since the moment he walked out of Calculus - but oh well.

"Your head? What about my head?" asked Obadiah forcefully. "What do you think the over-under on the stock drop is gonna be tomorrow?"

"Optimistically, 40 points," answered Tony truthfully.

"At minimum," stated Obadiah unnecessarily.

"That's what optimism is for, Obie," Tony replied, a little sarcastically.

Obadiah overlooked Tony's growing impatience, going on as he always did. "Tony, we're a weapons manufacturer. That's what we do. We're iron mongers. We make weapons."

"Obie, I just don't want a body count to be our only legacy," countered Tony. "It's not your name on the side of the building."

"What we do keeps the world from falling into chaos," continued Obadiah indifferently.

"Not based on what I saw," Tony replied, a bit louder, stepping in front of the older man and forcing Obadiah to concentrate on him. "We're not doing a good enough job. We can do better. We're gonna do something else."

"Like what?" Obadiah asked scornfully. "You want us to make baby bottles?"

"I think we should take another look into ARC reactor technology," responded Tony, a little hesitantly despite his mask.

Obadiah, picking up on this apprehension, used it, trying to get Tony to back down. "Come on. The ARC reactor, that's a publicity stunt! Tony, come on. We built that thing to shut the hippies up!"

"It works," Tony pointed out, confidently this time. Hey, there was one in his chest right now, happily generating electricity. Well, semi-happily. He still needed to work on that.

"It works as a science project," contradicted Obadiah. Funny, the man's gaze was no longer on Tony's face, but on his… chest? "The ARC was never cost effective. We knew that before we built it. ARC reactor technology, that's a dead end, am I right?"

"Maybe," answered Tony, unwilling to give Obadiah a definite answer, right or wrong.

"Am I right?" repeated Obadiah, sounding less sure of himself. "We haven't had a breakthrough in that in what?"

"Thirty years," Tony rattled off.

"That's what they say…" trailed off Obadiah. Tony finally recognized the edges of Obadiah's mask and ripped it off in his mind, seeing his intentions for what they were.

"Could you have a lousier poker face?" Tony sighed. "But really, how do you know?"

"Never mind who told me," Obadiah responded evasively. "Show me."

"Was it JARVIS?" asked Tony. "He's really the only one who knows, so…"

"I want to see it," insisted Obadiah hungrily.

"Okay, I'm giving JARVIS stricter protocol on this sort of thing," decided Tony. "You aren't going to tell my mom, are you?"

"No. Okay?" responded Obadiah tiredly.

Reluctantly, Tony tugged up the hem of his T-shirt, until it rested on the top of the ARC reactor. The older man stared hungrily at the glowing device, almost cupping his hands around it. He gave a little laugh, glancing towards the door to ensure that it was still closed.

"It works," confirmed Tony quietly.

Obadiah nodded, gently pulling the hem of the T-shirt back down. He pulled Tony close, almost into a hug, and whispered, "Listen to me, Tony. We're a team. Do you understand? There's nothing we can't do if we stick together, like your father and I."

"I'm sorry I didn't give you a heads-up, okay?" Tony interrupted, slightly impatient. "But if I had…"

"Tony, Tony," chided the older man. "No more of this 'ready, fire, aim' business. You understand me?"

"That was Dad's line," Tony whispered.

"You gotta let me handle this," continued Obadiah. "We're gonna have to play a whole different kind of ball now. We're going to have to take a lot of heat. I want you to promise me that you're gonna lay low."

Tony shrugged. "It's like I'm not doing that already. Chill out, Obie, I've got everything handled." As the young genius headed for the door, he waved, and the older man waved back.

Why was it that every time Tony left was the time that Obadiah was happiest?

Well, no time for that now. Better get home, finish all that work (damn you, Engineering), and continue on the ARC reactor. Work, work, work, all the time.

He wasn't in the swing of things.

Well, what he really meant was not in the swing of things, yet.

* * *

He wasn't sure just what had happened over the past two weeks.

How was it that Pepper's fire was burning even hotter than Maria's, burning straight through the rock around his secret?

He had gone a few days before really seeing her again, and they had gotten up to talking. Turns out she needed a tutor in Science, and he offered to do it, because why the hell not? He invited her to his house to study, and it evolved into study-for-thirty-minutes, hang-out-for-two-hours time. Not to mention how they hung out wherever the rest of the days; at an old coffee shop she had found, in the library, even once at SI.

Laughing with Pepper, he could forget all of his worries.

But even more than that, she trusted him. She would open up about school troubles, bullies, and (though she never said it out loud) problems at home. Pepper would talk about her secrets with Tony, the rich kid, the one who bossed around people like her.

He needed to show trust back.

Plus, he couldn't install the new ARC reactor alone.

So, when Pepper came for their study/hangout session, Tony asked JARVIS to bring her down to the lab. The AI was iffy about it, seeing that Tony's shirt was off and a certain reactor was exposed for all to see, but Tony insisted.

So, when Pepper came down into the lab, she got a clear view of the ARC reactor.

"Tony… what is that?" she asked tentatively, coming closer and dropping her backpack on the floor behind her.

"This," replied Tony, tapping the device, "is an ARC reactor. It's powering an electromagnet, that keeps shrapnel from Afghanistan from entering my heart."

"Now I can see why you won't take off your shirt in PE," Pepper reasoned. When Tony glared at her, she defended, "Hey, that sort of talk travels fast! So that _thing_ , embedded in your chest, is keeping you alive?"

"Well, it was," Tony corrected. "Now, it's a bit of an antique. This," he said, holding up the new ARC reactor, "will be keeping me alive for the foreseeable future. I would put it in myself, but there's a bit of a speed bump."

"Speed bump? Wh-what do you mean?" Pepper questioned warily.

"Nothing big, just a little snag," reassured Tony. "There's an exposed wire under this device, and it's in contact with the socket wall, so it's causing a bit of a short." He sat down, sticking little heart monitor leads to his chest. "I need you to reach in, and you're just gonna gently lift the wire out."

"Oh, my God, Tony, you can't think I'm qualified for this!" Pepper exclaimed, almost hyperventilating, as Tony carefully pulled out the ARC reactor from the socket. "I'm just your age, I'm gonna mess up, I'm too young -"

"They didn't think I was too young when they put this in me," commented Tony. Pepper looked up at him in horror. "You'll do just fine. You're the most capable, qualified, trustworthy person I've ever met." When Pepper didn't move, he sighed. "Is it too much of a problem to ask? 'Cause I really need help here. If my mom knew I had a hole in my chest…"

"OK, OK!" exclaimed Pepper, carefully reaching into the ARC socket. She almost immediately pulled her hand back out. "Oh, there's pus!"

"It's not pus," reassured Tony. "It's an inorganic plasmic discharge from the device, not my body."

"It smells…" Pepper moaned, nevertheless reaching in further.

"Yeah, it does," sighed Tony. "Keep going. You can do this. OK. Do you have the copper wire?"

"Yeah, I have it," answered Pepper faintly.

"Now gently pull it out," instructed Tony, "and don't let it touch the sides when you're coming OUT!"

Pepper had accidentally brushed the wire against the ARC socket, and the resulting shock had jolted through Tony quite painfully. He almost didn't want to remember the first time - and last time - water had touched the inside of the casing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Pepper muttered nervously, as she continued to pull out the wire.

"Well, that's what I was trying to tell you before," Tony commented. "Don't do it again. Now, when you pull it out, don't pull out the magnet!" The warning came a little too late, as Tony looked in dismay at the round magnet, coiled with copper wire, swinging at the end of the wire Pepper was holding. "That was it. You just pulled it out." The heart monitor started to go crazy, and Tony groaned.

"Oh, God," Pepper exclaimed. "What do I do? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm just going into cardiac arrest 'cause you yanked it out like a trout…" As Pepper swung the magnet back over the ARC socket, Tony shook his head violently. "No, no, no! Don't put it back in! Don't put it back in!"

"I thought you said this was safe! I'm going to get Mrs. Stark!" Pepper cried.

"That's the worst possible thing you could do," Tony groaned. He handed Pepper the new ARC reactor. "Take this, take this. Switch it out, real quick."

"OK," Pepper answered in a wavering voice. "It's gonna be OK, Tony. I'll make it OK."

"Are you saying that just to convince yourself?" asked Tony. "OK, you're gonna attach that to the base plate and -" He let out a brief yell as the reactor finally connected.

After a deep breath, Tony asked Pepper, "Was that so hard? That was fun, right?"

He began to laugh, and so did Pepper, although her laugh was much more strained. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, I feel great," answered Tony. "You OK?"

"Don't ever, ever, ever, ever ask me to do anything like that ever again," Pepper returned breathlessly.

Tony grinned, but his smile faltered a little when he commented, "I don't have anyone but you to ask."

Pepper glanced down, then, picking up the mark 1 ARC reactor, held it out to him. "What do you want me to do with this?"

Tony, looking at the relic, shrugged. "That? Destroy it. Incinerate it."

"You don't want it?" asked Pepper, slightly crestfallen.

"Pepper, I've been called many things," Tony countered. "'Nostalgic' is not one of them."

When Pepper's expression didn't change, the young Stark sighed. "Look, if you wanna do something with it, send me the bill and don't give my mom a show-n-tell."

Pepper nodded, her face molding into an expressionless mask. Man, she had been practicing. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" she asked, teasingly despite her expression (or lack of it).

"That will be all, Ms. Potts," replied Tony, just as teasing. He tapped on the surface of the ARC reactor, almost nervously, as he watched Pepper clearing off the desks.

JARVIS's voice jarred them both back to reality. "Sir, your mother is approaching your laboratory. I suggest hiding all presence of reactors."

"Oh, God," muttered Tony. He pulled on a T-shirt as fast as he could, as Pepper raced over and stuffed the mark 1 ARC reactor into her backpack. Dashing over to the computer monitors, the young genius cleared all the displayed files, while Pepper pulled the heart monitor over to a corner of the room, turning it off. Just as they returned to their original positions, Maria came through the door.

"Tony, Virginia, why are you down here?" she asked anxiously. "Tony's holed up in here often enough as it is. Is something going on?"

"Nothing, Mrs. Stark," replied Pepper, perky as ever. "Tony was just showing me a model of a topic I didn't understand in Science today, since he said the computers down here were better."

"Oh, that's nice of you, Tony," Maria commented, buying the lie perfectly. Obadiah really needed to take lessons from Pepper on hiding emotion. "Well, try and come upstairs in the meantime. I don't want you wasting away down here."

Tony chuckled as Maria climbed back up the stairs. "You're getting good, Pepper. I'm promoting you to my personal assistant."

"I thought you had already promoted me," responded Pepper, "when you made me stick my hand in your chest."

"Touche," acknowledged Tony.

* * *

A new project was on the horizon.

Tony knew it.

It wasn't enough that he had destroyed those weapons in the terrorist camp. There were still Stark Industries weapons out there, he was sure of it.

They all had to go.

He knew Rhodey wouldn't support him on this. The man was staunchly devoted to the military, and hadn't spoken to Tony since that text message the first day of school. His mother was out of the question for obvious reasons. Pepper… Pepper could see parts of the product. He just wouldn't provide her with all the pieces; then she couldn't see the picture.

Obadiah? He couldn't trust the man, not with his current actions.

That left JARVIS.

"JARVIS, you up?" asked Tony, late at night. Maria had gone to bed an hour ago, telling Tony to get to bed at a reasonable time. Well, 3 could be reasonable.

"For you, sir, always," responded the AI.

"I'd like to open a new project file, index as Mark 2," Tony instructed.

"Shall I store this on the Stark Industries Central Database?"

Without missing a beat, Tony responded, "I don't know who I can trust to let me do this. 'Till further notice, why don't we just keep everything on my private server?"

"Working on a secret project, are we, sir?" JARVIS queried.

"I don't want this ending up in the wrong hands," Tony explained. "Maybe in mine, it can actually do some good."

He would have to work for hours on this, but that was OK.

All work and no play never made him lose it.

* * *

 **Dowe is an OC, she was my History teacher and I love her. She'll play a bigger part in the story eventually. The other one... COUUUULSOOOON!**

 **Hope you like this chappie, and I'm sorry it took such a long time! It was a little boring to write.**

 **The next one will be buildup to the CLIMATIC BATTLE SCENE!**

 **Hope you have an amazing day/week/however long it takes to get the next chap out!**

 **~Horseluv**


	5. I don't know if I'm a giver

**Another long chapter! Seriously, these are taking a lot of time. Every Productive Academic Work period, all of my free time in the mornings, most of my afternoon free time... It gets busy. Plus, there's two more chapters left before I'm done with this origin. And I don't know whether I'm gonna throw in IM2 or not... but it's OK. Tony Stark is my favorite character, after all.**

 **Now, for a lot of filler, in between which is mashed that scene where you knew that the MCU had got it right.**

 **To TheIronGhost1223: Thank you so much, and here you are!**

 **The song for this chapter is "Giver" by K. Flay. It's probably the song with the most lyrics hidden in the chapter somewhere. Listen to it and try to find everything!**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: CHAPTER 5: I DON'T KNOW IF I'M A GIVER_

* * *

"Next. Up," Tony instructed DUM-E, his first AI, as they worked together on a repulsor boot. As the bot moved, trying to modify the skeleton boot, Tony glared at him. "Not up here, DUM-E. Down to the toe. You got me?"

Obligingly, the bot shifted over, and Tony thanked him. A few minutes later, the AI shifted back over to where Tony was working on the main booster, and tried to 'help'. "You're of no benefit at all," Tony scolded. "Move down to the toe. I got this." When DUM-E whistled a protest, Tony stopped his work and gave the bot an incredulous look. "OK, I'm sorry, am I in your way?" One last twist, and the boot should be done. Leaning back, Tony flipped a switch, and the back of the boot opened up. Nothing left to do but the testing.  
"OK, let's do this right," announced Tony to the empty room, several minutes later. "Start mark, half a meter, and back and center. DUM-E, look alive. You're on standby for fire safety. U, roll it." The bot in question activated the camera, as Tony moved to the correct location. "OK. Activate hand controls. We're gonna start off nice and easy. We're gonna see if 10% thrust capacity achieves lift. And three, two, one -" Closing his eyes, Tony squeezed the activators, hard.

He was thrown into the air, much too far, much too fast. The boots spun out of control, and Tony landed face-first against the wall. Falling heavily on his back on the floor beneath, the genius couldn't protest as DUM-E doused him with the fire extinguisher.

All Tony could do was sigh.

JARVIS called out, "Sir, your mother heard the sound of your crash, and is proceeding downstairs to check on you. Estimated time of arrival is 1 minute, 30 seconds." Even though JARVIS wasn't a real person, he managed to sound quite nervous.

"Close all computer windows relating to mark 2," replied Tony quickly. "Stop camera, and DUM-E, put down the damn extinguisher." The bot, who had proceeded to spray almost all the worktables with extinguishing foam, whistled guiltily.

By the time Maria was in the lab, the skeleton boots were in a corner, a table was overturned, and Tony was sitting in the middle of it all, pretending to clear up the papers that had been on the upheaved surface. "Tony, what happened?" asked Maria, worried.

"Oh, nothing," replied her son. "U knocked over a table, and DUM-E thought it was a good idea to spray the fire extinguisher everywhere."

"Maybe DUM-E thought that spraying in here would clean everything up," Maria commented, glancing around the hastily, insufficiently cleared lab. Her eyes lingered on the skeleton boots, but she didn't investigate further. "Well, if you have everything covered, I'll let you get back to work."

"OK, thanks Mom!" Tony called as she left. Oh, thank God that the lab wasn't exactly the same as the one in Malibu. Whereas in Malibu, the partition between the stairs and lab workspace was glass, here it was concrete, providing a bit more seclusion for his work. After a moment, the genius dramatically flopped into a chair. "U, pick the table back up, please. We need to get to work, and we need to be quiet about it."

His mom would never approve of Tony flying a weaponized metal suit around in known terrorist locations, not to mention staying up so late, days were turning into holes in his mind.

Though it pained him to keep this secret, he had to keep up the ploy, act happy, act content, so she could keep dancing in the dark. A blissful, peaceful dark, but dark nevertheless.

His only problem would be getting her to think that daylight was still out.

Tony grabbed a cup of coffee from the table, choking it down despite the overabundance of sugar. Pepper had been drinking coffee again down here, hadn't she?

* * *

"Sir, your mother is requesting your presence," JARVIS announced, the next day, "as Mr. Stane has arrived at the premises. I suggest you obey her wishes."

"Tell them I'll be up in a couple minutes, Jar," Tony mumbled. "Important experiments, they'll understand." He had worked out the best way to remain stable while in the air; the solution, however, had required several hours more work than he anticipated, and he knew another long night was required for him to finish his homework. Then he would be tired the next day, and take longer to finish his homework, get to bed later… a vicious, vicious cycle.

He couldn't really do anything to break the circle, though. School and homework had to continue, for obvious reasons. Time with Pepper… well, that was his only real leisure time, and they needed each other, that much was clear. Working on the suit couldn't stop, because Tony needed the Iron Man to finish what he had started.

As Tony mindlessly tinkered with the apparatus wrapped around his arm, JARVIS's voice finally penetrated his deep folds of thought. "SIR! Your mother -"

"What?" exclaimed Tony, glancing around. Footsteps were coming down the stairs, the lab door was cracked open for air - why did he think that was a good idea? - and his arm was stuck in the device he had been testing. "JARVIS, close all blueprint designs!" he hissed violently, not bothering to struggle out of the confining wrap.

"Tony?" Maria asked, coming down the stairs. "This isn't optional, Obadiah's upstairs, and - what is that? I thought… I thought you were done with weapons."

"I am done, Mom," Tony denied. Might as well tell some of the truth; it was right in front of her, after all. "This is a flight stabilizer I'm working on. Completely harmless." To prove his point, he triggered it, and a beam of blue light shot out of the middle of the palm.

The light also slammed into the wall, sending a huge fissure through the thick concrete and shaking several picture frames down. Tony was propelled backward, crashing into the adjoining wall. Maria gave a shriek, shrinking to the side and clapping two fine hands over her ringing ears. The genius winced; the device needed some definite fine-tuning.

When the dust cleared, Tony looked up and grinned sheepishly at Maria. "I didn't expect that."

"Just come upstairs," muttered Maria, climbing back up. "I'll be in my room. Obadiah's in the dining room. And watch where you point that flight stabilizer."

* * *

"It went that bad, huh?" Tony asked, casually walking into the dining room. Obadiah, gently playing a tune on the piano, glanced up at Tony, giving a smile that seemed even more forced than the last thirty times he'd done it.

"Just because I brought you pizza doesn't mean it went bad," the CEO responded, his easy voice at odds with his tight expression.

Tony scoffed, "Sure doesn't." Lifting the cardboard top of the pizza box, he glanced at the label and whistled. "Oh, boy. Best pizza in New York. What went bad?"

"It would have gone better if you were there," Obadiah answered, delicately dodging the question.

"One: I'm a kid," Tony responded, slightly pissed. "Two: You told me to lay low. That's what I've been doing. I lay low, and you take care of all the -"

"Hey, come on," Obadiah wheedled, rising from the piano and walking towards Tony, punctuating each point with vague gestures. "In public. The press. This was a board of directors meeting. They would have listened to you."

What? Had the schedule changed? It hadn't been scheduled for a while yet… "This was a board of directors meeting?"

The older man shifted uncomfortably, giving out the bad news at last. "The board is claiming you have post-traumatic stress. They're filing an injunction."

"A what?" Tony asked, dread building in his stomach.

"They want to lock all of your ideas out," Obadiah clarified.

Tony sighed, overdramatically shaking his head. "Why, 'cause the stocks dipped 40 points? We knew that was gonna happen."

"Fifty-six and a half," corrected Obadiah tiredly. Seriously, the man needed to get some sleep and practice his 'emotionless' and 'happy' faces.  
"It doesn't matter," the boy genius dismissed. "Mom owns the controlling interest in the company, and she's behind all my smart decisions."

"Tony, the board has rights, too," Obadiah stated pleadingly. "They're making the case that you and your new direction isn't in the company's best interest."

"I'm being responsible!" Tony exclaimed, his iron grip on his self-control slowly slipping, a finger at a time. "That's a new direction for me, for the company." Wait. That wasn't the point he wanted to make. "I mean, me on the company's behalf being responsible for the way that… This is great." Utterly tired of the whole conversation, Tony got up and started to stalk to the hallway.

"Oh, come on," Obadiah moaned. "Tony. Tony."

"Yes, that's my name," Tony responded flippantly. "I'll be in the shop."  
The man seemed to wait, but suddenly called out, "Hey, hey! Hey, Tony. Listen." Unwillingly, the boy genius stopped moving, although he didn't bother to turn as Obadiah continued. "I'm trying to turn this thing around, but you gotta give me something. Something to pitch them. Let me have the engineers analyze… that." Without seeing Obie, Tony knew that the man had gestured vaguely at Tony's chest, where a slight glow could be seen if one knew what to look for. "You know, draw up some specs."

This was why Obadiah should never had known about the ARC reactor. "No. No, absolutely not," Tony responded, whirling around and coldly glaring at Obadiah.

"It'll give me a bone to throw to the boys on the board!" Obadiah offered, sounding a little like a whining puppy.  
"This one stays with me," Tony stated firmly. "That's it, Obie. Forget it."

The man shrugged, grabbing the pizza box and childishly stating, "All right, well, this stays with me, then." After a few seconds the man sighed and held the box back out. "Go on, here, you can have a piece. Take two."

Is this what Obadiah thought 'being friendly' was like? The man needed serious help.

As Tony walked out, the CEO turned and asked, "You mind if I come down there and see what you're doing?"

Tony stopped, emitting a long sigh. "Obadiah, I haven't told anyone willingly about the ARC. You might want to consider why. Good night."

As Tony escaped, he mentally berated himself. Where did that come from? Sure, he had lied before, but never outright to someone he cared about.

Maybe he had just wanted to stand up to Obadiah. Remind the man that he wouldn't let go of what was his. No one was keeping him honest, anyway.

Something bad was going on around Obadiah, and he almost didn't want to find out. The man had been caring most of his life; sometimes, when Howard was consumed by a new project, Obadiah became a sort of father. He couldn't replace Howard, of course, but that didn't mean Tony couldn't pretend, pretend he was wanted by someone not related him.

That was all it was; pretend.

Well. Time to work on the armor. That was one thing he wouldn't regret making progress on.

When he came down to the lab, a package caught his eye. It was labeled 'For Tony', in what looked like Pepper's handwriting. Curious, he tapped the brown package, feeling a hard glass case inside. Tearing open the paper, Tony beheld the original ARC reactor, mounted proudly in the case, with an engraving around the edge: 'Proof that Tony Stark Has A Heart'.

Tony smiled, his somber clouds of thought clearing as her sunlight shone through.

Only Pepper.

* * *

"Tony?" called out a voice. Ms. Dowe, to be precise. The genius shook himself out of his Obadiah-induced daze, realizing a second too late that it was lecture day. Everyone would read out their answer for their packet questions, and Ms. Dowe would give the class notes to write down. As long as someone had both initial and final answers when the packet was turned in, they got full credit, no matter how accurate the initial answer was.

Now, however, Tony was stuck, not knowing what he had to say, and not having any friend to remind him. If only he could sleep more… Now he did regret working on the armor. Desperately, Tony glanced towards Ms. Dowe, who, after a second of contemplation, mouthed "12" as discreetly as she could. Looking back down at his paper, Tony read out the answer. Just after Ms. Dowe gave some extra notes on the topic for everyone to jot down, the bell rang, and everyone jumped up, laughing, chatting with their friends, heading off to class. Ms. Dowe, however, waved Tony over to her desk.

The genius shifted uncomfortably. "Ms. Dowe, I have Calculus next period…"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll write a note for Phil if you're going to be late, he'll be fine with it," the teacher answered breezily. Phil? Oh, Mr. Coulson. Who knew that teachers could be friends with each other?

"Anyway," Ms. Dowe continued, "I noticed that you were a bit lost today. Usually you're one of the most attentive students. Is there anything going on?"

Tony shrugged. He had talked with Ms. Dowe a little bit in the past couple weeks, mostly about school but still, she seemed nice and trustworthy. Not enough to tell her about the big stuff - he wouldn't put it past her to contact his mom - but one little problem couldn't hurt to unload.

"It's just, well, my godfather - Mr. Stane - has been acting strange lately. Stranger than normal, at least. He seems really unhappy around me, he almost wants to… manipulate me, or something. I've lost some sleep over it, and I was just thinking about it now. It's been distracting."

The teacher nodded thoughtfully. "In context, I would say that Obadiah Stane seems to be a decent person. Perhaps misguided; I don't really think weapons are the answer to peace." Tony shuffled, aware of what was taking shape in his basement. "Out of context… I advise you to trust your gut. Trust what you notice. Be aware of everything. History repeats itself, Tony. Use all the puzzle pieces you have; don't leave any out because 'you know this person' or 'he would never do that'. You're smart, Tony. So, so, smart. Use that to your advantage."

"Thank you," Tony replied thoughtfully, "really. Objectivity is the one thing I don't seem to have these days." He turned to leave, thinking about everything Ms. Dowe had said. She sounded so grandmotherly, saying those things.

Was it really so bad that he liked it? That he wanted to trust Ms. Dowe with more of his secrets?

"Tony?" Ms. Dowe called, just as he reached the door. "I find that talking about problems with someone outside of them can be very helpful. If you find yourself in need of that, I'm always here."

"Thank you. Again," Tony returned gratefully. Motivation, someone supportive, and he would be on time to Calculus. Win-win-win for Tony Stark.

He trusted Ms. Dowe, he really did. One of the first things he had noticed about the woman was that she could never wear any kind of mask. Whatever her emotion was - elation, sadness, or annoyance - she wore it on her face, even with her best attempts to cover it up. She wasn't lying to him.

Good to know where she stood on the 'Helpfulness to Tony' scale.

As the genius walked into Calculus, he almost swore at Coulson's expressionless face. He was a nice enough teacher, and he knew the subject, but God forbid he show any kind of emotion while he was at it. Seriously. It was like the man was a government agent or something.

* * *

"Day 11, test 37, configuration 2.0," the boy genius rattled off, glancing around the lab. The door was securely shut and locked - he had learned his lesson, especially now, when his ARC reactor had to be exposed. Pepper had just left, so she wouldn't be coming in and witnessing the test. The only variables that he had to worry about were the devices on his appendages.

Two repulsor boots and two flight stabilizers were his final choice on flying; they seemed the most maneuverable and versatile. The boots had a little plating on them, while the stabilizers were little more than wires and struts. All four were running off of his ARC reactor, which was exposed by a hole in his shirt. Hopefully, this experiment would go a little better than last time. He had high hopes; this held so much potential, after all.

"For lack of a better option, DUM-E is still on fire safety," he continued dictating to the camera. Why was he even recording this? It wasn't like he was going to release it; all it did was provide another box for Maria to unwittingly click and watch. Well, whatever. He liked dramatics. "If you douse me again," he instructed, wagging his finger at the little AI, "and I'm not on fire, I'm donating you to a city college." DUM-E glanced down, emitting his little whimpering sound.

Moving to the center of the testing area, Tony exhaled deeply, shaking himself out. "All right, nice and easy. Seriously, just gonna start off with 1% thrust capacity. And three, two, one -" He triggered the start bracing himself.

The repulsors fired properly, bringing him up about a foot off of the ground. Frantically, slightly unprepared for this eventuality, Tony flailed his arms, trying to find a balance, while the hand stabilizers sputtered in and out. Finally, Tony was there, hovering, stable. He cut out the power and dropped onto the ground.

He hadn't felt this accomplished since those few minutes in the cave, when the Iron Man suit had been working, before -

Anyway.

Sneaking a look at DUM-E, Tony noticed how trained the bot's extinguisher was on him. "Please don't follow me around with it, either," he scolded, "because I feel like I'm gonna catch on fire spontaneously. Just stand down! If something happens, then come in." Breathing out, the genius glanced at U, who was still aiming the camera. "And again, let's bring it up to 2.5. Three, two, one."

Again Tony rose up, this time closer to three feet off the ground. The pressure of the boots were a rushing geyser under him, and as he faltered, leaning back slightly, they were off, propelling him towards the camera. Thinking quickly, he thrust his hands back, leaning him forward and sending him off. He was able to do a spin, but he couldn't get his hands underneath him, and his forward motion didn't stop. Pretty soon, he was at the concrete wall in back, where a garage door was concealed.

"OK, this is where I don't want to be!" he called out, carefully maneuvering around the corner and back along the workshop perimeter. This, however, brought the genius right above his father's prized cars. "Not the car, not the car!" he exclaimed, but they were already getting polished by repulsor bursts. Oh, well. He could check the paint job later. Now, he was heading over a table, sending papers and blueprints flying. Seeing the computer monitors right in front of him, Tony aimed his stabilizers right in front of him, sending him back towards U. Letting out a laugh, he pirouetted above the bot. "Could be worse! Could be worse! We're fine! OK!"  
Finally, Tony was above where he had started, and locked his hands to his side. There he hovered, stable at last, like a majestic king surveying his realm. Slowly decreasing power, he flailed a little, but when he hit the ground, he only stumbled back three steps before regaining stability. Not bad for the first time he had ever flown.

Checking his surroundings, he caught DUM-E as the AI tried to raise the extinguisher one last time. "No!" he exclaimed forcefully, and the AI bowed down, dejected.

Tony looked out at the lab, the only witness to his accomplishment. Sighing, he spread his arms and proclaimed, "Yeah, I can fly."

* * *

Metal arms encased the skeleton boots in shining silvery plating. Screws whirred, being fitted into joints, holding together a casing. Tony lifted up a shining mask, placing it in front of him. "JARVIS, you there?" he asked, as the mask fitted onto his face.

"At your service, sir," the AI responded.

"Engage heads-up display," Tony commanded, ready to survey his work.

"Check," JARVIS responded, and the rest of the room was mapped out on the inside of the helmet. Hundreds of little icons were displayed in front of Tony, giving him so many options.

"Import all preferences from home interface," Tony commanded, and JARVIS did so, information starting to pop up about, well, anything Tony was looking at.

"I have been uploaded, sir," informed the AI. "We're online and ready."

"Can we start the virtual walkaround?" asked Tony. Well, he asked, but he knew what the answer was already. "And let's do a check on control services."

"Importing preferences and calibrating virtual environment," JARVIS supplied. "Test initiate."

Tony felt and heard the ripple of metal. First, the tabs on the back of the boots, stretching out, flaring, then sliding back. The knee plates slid back and forth, while the thighs expanded and contracted. Back plates flapped out, then in, as arm plating opened and closed. As the hips whirred around, the chest stretched, exposing blue lighting, then contracted back, forming a smooth shell. Shoulders flipped up, then back, and the Iron Man stood still, majestically, in the middle of the lab.

"Test complete," JARVIS reported. "Preparing to power down and begin diagnostics."

Suddenly, this didn't seem like enough. Tonight had to be special, even more so than trying on the suit. More like… trying _out_ the suit.

Good thing his mother was out.

"Yeah. Tell you what," Tony decided. "Do a weather and ATC check. Start listening in on ground control."

"Sir," JARVIS immediately responded, sounding worried, "there are still terabytes of calculations needed before an actual flight is -"

"JARVIS," Tony interrupted, "sometimes, you've gotta run before you can walk." Standing ready, he keyed the opening for the garage door, and the genius stood in his creation, ready for anything. "Ready? In three, two, one -"

The armor fired, the boots starting off slow. As he tilted slightly towards the door, Tony did not expect the repulsors to build up speed; but they did. As he curved up the driveway, he accelerated, and by the time he reached the exit and catapulted into the night sky, he was a human rocket. Spinning, he shot upwards, letting out a yell of elation, ignoring the sudden honk of horns as New York commuters tried to process how a suit of flying armor had burst out of the ground.

The suit wound like a top, Tony whooping all the way. An incredible feeling washed over him as he moved ever higher. No one could catch him; no one could tell him what he could and couldn't do.

He was free. He would never let go of this.

The genius practiced rolls and loops, speeding over the ink-black ocean, still a little shaky but getting the hang of it. "Handles like a dream," he commented, breathing heavily in excitement. Yes, he was aware of the huge, stupid grin on his face, like a toddler on their birthday.

No, he didn't want to stop grinning.

Curving around, he turned from the Atlantic Ocean and sped back towards the Big Apple. Zooming in on the skyline, he found the Empire State Building, and aimed for it. The Iron Man shot over the streets like an arrow, banking sharply every so often. Once at the building, he circled around it, looping in smaller and smaller bursts until he flew up past the needle, enjoying the view of a group of tourists, scared shitless. Instead of banking down, Tony climbed higher and higher, giving him an idea. "All right, let's see what this thing can do. JARVIS, what's SR-71's record?"

"The altitude record for fixed wing flight is 85,000 feet, sir," the AI responded, along with a diagram of the plane in question and statistics. God, he loved this display system already.

"Records were meant to be broken! Come on!" Tony called, and the AI had no choice but to come along for the ride. Sure, Tony was being a bit reckless, but everything would be fine, right? All in the name of science.

"Sir, there is a potentially fatal buildup of ice occurring," JARVIS informed, worried.

"Hey, I'm learning to live, JAR," Tony commented. "Don't worry. Keep going."

Spoken too soon. He should include a little wood block on the side of the suit to knock on every time he said something stupid like that.

The suit started to really ice, until Tony's joints seemed almost locked, and ice obscured the eyes of the Iron Man, limiting Tony's view of the world to those two tiny windows. The repulsor boots suddenly shut off, and the acceleration slowed dramatically. Tony could almost watch his potential energy reach its limit, and then kinetic taking over… He gave a little yelp at the first foot of falling, then a more sustained shout as the suit didn't recover. The suit was free falling, spinning out of control.

"We iced over, JARVIS!" Tony yelled, hoping his AI could hear him. "Deploy flaps!" Hey, it wasn't like he was a complete idiot. He thought ahead of scenarios and included fail-safes.

Looked like he needed to add more.

If he got out of this.

"JARVIS!" he called, desperately thinking. When he whirled into view of the ground, it definitely looked much closer… Finally, an armored hand caught onto a strap along the hip of the armor, and Tony twisted as hard as he could. A shudder ran through the armor, shaking off the ice and halting the barrel roll, and he got a clear view of the ever-enlarging ground. The electronics booted up, instantly calculating his predicament.

The boots kicked in just in time, and his fall turned into a level path several yards above street level, and the Iron Man continued on, to the cadence of honking cars. Tony cheered and laughed in triumph. Not bad for thinking on his feet. Or repulsor boots, for that matter.

Arcing gracefully back to the Stark residence, Tony poised himself elegantly over an outlying roof, right above his workshop. Aligning himself much more elegantly than he did the last time that he had tested the repulsors, the genius was straight, regally hovering, as he called, "Cut power."

The armor crashed down with much more intensity than he expected, going straight through the roof. He landed on one of his father's cars, crushing the top irreparably. Oh, well. Another convertible.

The spectacle ended when DUM-E wheeled over, spraying Tony with all the rest of the fire extinguishing spray.

At least he wasn't in Malibu. The best place to land in Malibu was right above the piano.

As the genius started to rise, he took pride in his accomplishment. He had found another way to help the world achieve some sense of peace. Someone would be able to fix his mistakes.

* * *

Pepper waved to Tony and left the lab, heading home to get ready for some party her mom was dragging her along to. He sighed, a little disappointed, as he opened a new page on the Iron Man project. Mark 3 was next. "Notes. Main transducer feels sluggish at plus 40 altitude. Hull pressurization is problematic. I'm thinking icing is the probable factor."

"A very astute observation, sir," JARVIS responded, humoring him. "Perhaps, if you intend to visit other planets, we should improve the exosystems."

That was something to think about in the future; the very distant future. Dismissing the idea, he pondered solutions to the ice. "Connect to the system co. Have it reconfigure the shell metals. Use the gold titanium alloy from Dad's tactical satellite. That should ensure a fuselage integrity while maintaining power-to-weight ratio. Got it?"

The AI confirmed the alterations to the suit. "Shall I render using proposed specifications, sir?"

Tony shrugged. "Thrill me." He turned, and after a little internal debate, he powered on a T.V, flipping idly between channels. When the name 'Stark' featured on a headline, Tony turned up the volume, watching the announcer.

"Tonight's red-hot red carpet is right here at Kaufmann Hall, where Howard and Tony Stark's third annual benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund has become the place to be for New York's high society."

Hm. "JARVIS, we get an invite for that?" asked the genius.

"I have no record of an invitation, sir," responded the AI.

Turning back quizzically to the screen, Tony returned his focus to the words in time to hear, "...hasn't been seen in public since his return home, and has released no statements since his bizarre and highly controversial press conference statement, delivered by Maria Stark. Some claim he's suffering from posttraumatic stress and has been bedridden for weeks. Whatever the case may be, no one expects an appearance from him tonight."

Famous last words.

"The render is complete," JARVIS supplied. Tony turned and gazed at the screen, taking in the pure gold suit. That was a new level, even for him.

"A little ostentatious, don't you think?" commented the genius.

"What was I thinking?" the AI scoffed. "You're usually so discreet."

"Tell you what," Tony decided, ultimately choosing in favor of his tastes. "Throw a little hot-rod red in there."

"Yes, that should help you keep a low profile." JARVIS paused before proclaiming once again, "The render is complete."

From the glance at the screen, it looked perfect. "Hey, I like it. Fabricate it. Paint it."

"Commencing automated assembly," JARVIS announced. "Estimated completion time is five hours."

"Don't wait up for me, honey," Tony smirked, heading upstairs. Speaking of low profiles...

* * *

Happy drove Tony up to the walkup of Kaufmann Hall, lined with cameras and the press. Tony got out, adjusting his dress shirt. He had been wearing thicker shirts lately, to guard against the glow of the ARC reactor, but this one had required an extra circle of fabric to completely obscure the blue light. Ah, well. Worth the time.

Obadiah was at the end of the carpet, next to his mother. Maria looked regal and powerful, while the CEO seemed, well, angry. As Maria started to make a statement, the reporters started shouting - not at her, but at Tony.

So much for a quiet entrance.

Maria looked nearly apocalyptic, while Obadiah seemed a little apprehensive of the young genius. As nonchalantly as he could, Tony strolled up the red carpet, waving to the cameras and pasting on a smile. As he passed an old man in a smoking jacket with two ladies on his arm, the genius patted the man on the shoulder, quipping, "You look great, Heff." The genius didn't think the man was actually Hugh Hefner, but hey.

"What's the world coming to when someone has to crash their own party?" Tony asked, trying to divert Maria's attention from the fact that he had come here on a school night.

"Look at you," Obadiah exclaimed. The hypocrite; he wasn't looking at Tony, but at where the ARC reactor was supposed to be. "Hey, what a surprise."

"I'll see you inside," mumbled the genius, aware of Ms. Dowe's words to trust his gut.

"Listen, you should really be home," Maria voiced, attempting to get her little boy safe at home.

"I think I've got the board right where we want them," supplied Obadiah.

Tony shrugged. "Just cabin fever. I'll be just a minute." Striding past the adults, he walked inside, glancing over the throng of people. Suddenly, there was a face he recognized; Coulson, clad in a suit and tie that strangely looked rather normal on him, more so than his usual slacks and button down.

Ambling over, he remarked, "Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Coulson. Why would you be here?" The man turned, and for a split second, Tony thought he could see the slightest hint of terror, hidden around the teacher's eyes. Just as suddenly, his expressionless mask smoothed back over, and the teacher supplied a tight smile.

"Mr. Stark, just a moment ago, it was more unlikely for you to be here than for me to be here, wouldn't you say so?"

Tony pondered that statement for a moment. True, Coulson wasn't the one who had been declared 'not going to show up' on live TV. Then again, did he make enough money to afford that nice suit he had on, or to even be able to show his face here, for that matter? Oh. Wait. God, that man was good at dodging questions. How much of a teacher could he really be? "Wait, you didn't answer my -"

"Isn't that Miss Potts over there?" the man queried suddenly. Tony guffawed, turning to scan the crowd to humor the man, and wait, how did Coulson know that he knew Pepper?

He was distracted from this thought, however, when he glanced over, and yes, there was Pepper, in a midnight blue dress with a low back, standing uncomfortably next to her slightly severe-looking mother. Wow, it was a whole melting pot of literally everyone Tony knew. Striding over to Pepper, the genius politely asked her mom, "May I cut in?"

Pepper's mother, while looking a bit flustered, nodded her approval, and Tony pulled Pepper to a small clearing in the midst of the forest of legs. After a moment, Tony commented, "I didn't expect this to be the party you were dragged to. Did you get an invitation because you knew me? First Coulson, now you… I keep wondering when Rhodey's gonna show up."

Pepper, not knowing enough of either man to make a comment on their attendance or lack of it, instead decided to go with, "Well, my mom's a firefighter. You would assume that you would be invited to the firefighter's benefit if you're an actual firefighter."

"True," Tony acknowledged. Another moment passed, and Tony questioned, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, no," denied the strawberry blonde. "I always forget to wear deodorant, and I dance with Tony Stark, publicly declaring our status as 'friends', in front of every person with any scrap of power in New York in a dress with no back."

"You look great and you smell great," Tony assured. "But we could stop being friends if that takes the edge off."

Thoughtfully, Pepper responded, "I actually don't think you could still function without me."

Shrugging, Tony admitted, "I'd make it a week. Sure."

"Really?" Pepper asked, desperate to make her point. "Without me, you wouldn't have any social life whatsoever."

"No, I could bribe someone," denied the genius. "Or everyone. If I wanted to, I could pay everyone at school to say that I'm their best friend."

"Why don't you?"  
The genius shrugged. "They would only stare at me more, trying to make me give them more money."

"I rest my case," Pepper confirmed, still a bit flustered.

Tony, noticing this, offered his arm. "Want some air?"

"Yes, I want some air," Pepper repeated, slightly dizzy.

Tony guided her gently through the crowd to a balcony, where she drew in the breeze gratefully. Might not be fresh, considering that they were in New York, but better than the stuffiness of the hall.

"That was totally weird," Pepper finally managed to gasp out.

"Totally harmless," corrected an indifferent Tony.

"It was totally not harmless, by the way," Pepper countered.

Shrugging, Tony pointed out, "We're dancing. No one's even watching. I think you lost objectivity. I think they just… people… we just danced."

"No, it was not just a dance!" Pepper burst out. "You just don't understand, because your father tried to keep you out of everything, but no one forgot how your dad was with girls before he married your mom, and you're his son. And then, then there's me, and I show up, dancing with you, and some people might have taken it…"

"No, they did not," hotly defended Tony. When Pepper tried to contradict this statement, he repeated, "I don't think it was taken that way."

"But we're here," continued Pepper, "and I'm wearing this ridiculous dress, and then we were dancing like that…"

Almost unconsciously, the two began to drift closer together. As Pepper stopped hyperventilating, she shifted nearer to Tony, where he waited for whatever she wanted. Their faces were drawn together, Pepper's lips were parting -

"Mr. Stark!"

The untimely call of a reporter caught both teens off guard; they lurched apart, unsteady. Whirling quickly, Tony came face to face with an angry reporter, who whipped out a press badge and gave a fake, cheesy smile. "Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair Magazine. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Tony glared daggers at her, but she didn't bug off, and he was forced to answer, "What do you want to know?"

Grinning her shark grin, the reporter leaned up against the balcony railing. "You have a lot of nerve, showing up here tonight. Can I get a reaction from you?"

"Panic. I would say panic is my reaction," responded the irritated billionaire.

"'Cause I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity," snapped Everhart, smiling all the while.

The bewildered genius muttered, "Yeah. They just put my name on the invitation. I don't know what to tell you."

Shaking her head, the reporter commented, "I almost bought it, hook, line, and sinker."

A little more annoyed now, Tony restated, "I was out of town for a couple months, in case you didn't hear."

"Is this what you call accountability?" replied Everhart, starting to frown and jamming out photographs. Tony, starting to wonder at what this lady's deal was, grabbed them and examined them closely.

He stopped wondering when he saw what they detailed: a decimated town, presided over by tanks; a convoy of Ten Rings insurgents, carrying weapons, Bearded Man their leader; a crate with the name _Stark Industries_ emblazoned on the side; most worryingly, a Jericho missile.

 _Now how did they get that?_

"It's a town called Gulmira," Everhart stated, delivering the final kicker. "Heard of it?"

Tony sighed, shaking a little, as Pepper gazed at him in concern. "When were these taken?"

"Yesterday," was the terse response.

"I didn't approve any shipment. Neither did my mother," Tony stated, aware of his mother's utmost upholding of the no-weapons policy.

That left Obadiah.

"Well, the company did," responded the reporter, unaware of Tony's inner battle.

Barely managing to keep himself from snapping at the woman, Tony countered, "Well, I'm not my company." Turning, the young genius made to find Obadiah and demand what the hell was going on, but Pepper's hand on his arm stopped him.

Turning to his friend, Tony apologized, "I'm really sorry, Pepper, but this is important. Someone's been using my mistakes against people, and I intend to fix that." He felt like screaming. Pepper deserved better than this. Screaming, not crying.

It wasn't like the world had mistreated him. He had only gotten what he had deserved.

"But Tony, your mistakes -"

"Are real, aren't behind me, and they're still hurting people," Tony responded flatly. "Pep, I'm trying to be better. I'm learning to give back to the world, but… I don't know if I'm a giver. If I can fix one of my mistakes, that's one less thing that can hurt people."

Pepper bit her lip, at odds with her feelings. Finally, she relented. "OK. Be careful, Tony. You aren't the only genius out there."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Tony grumbled, as he walked out. Catching sight of Obadiah, Tony stormed over, forcing himself through the crowd of reporters. "Please - do you mind - Obadiah! Have you seen these pictures? What's going on in Gulmira?"

"Tony, Tony," Obadiah said amiably. "You can't afford to be this naive."

Tony was done playing games with Obadiah. "You know what? I was naive before, when they said, 'Here's the line. We don't cross it'. If we're double-dealing under the table… are we?"  
Reporters started to notice the young genius. "Tony, your picture, please!"

Obadiah smiled a juicy, triumphant smile, and he exclaimed, "Let's take a picture. Come on." He forcefully moved Tony right next to him, and gave him a one-armed hug. Tony still didn't smile. "Picture time!" As the cameras snapped, _click click click,_ Obadiah murmured to Tony, "Tony. Who do you think locked you out? I was the one who filed the injunction against you. It was the only way I could protect you."

Tony stood stoically, enduring the flash of shutters, trying to reason with himself that he had mostly already known, this wasn't so bad, this could be fixed. All of this, to no avail.

Obadiah had betrayed him. He didn't want the man's hugs or fake smiles; not now, not ever. He wanted to twitch away and show this betrayal to the world.

If he did that, well, Obadiah had Tony's biggest secret. They were at a stalemate.

It wouldn't last long. Tony knew that he would escape as soon as possible, go back to his lab, and do something about both of these new developments.

So he could give back to the world that had given so much to him.

* * *

 **Dun Dun DUUUUHN! I didn't get as far in the story as I thought I would, but hey. This is a substantial part of the movie in my opinion. I tried to make things work with all the different characters, but I don't know how good it is. I'm still trying to figure out the cadence of the last battle...**

 **Sorry about any continuity errors. I don't have access to the full movie currently, I'm only armed with a lines script, my memories, and YouTube clips. I'll try my best.**

 **You know what's next chapter if you watched the movie. If you didn't, why are you here? Go watch it right now. I'll be waiting.**

 **~Horseluv**


	6. We are the warriors

**I'M NOT DEAD! Sorry, but I could only work on this chapter here and there, and it dragged out, and now it's been almost three weeks since I've updated... I'm sorry, guys.**

 **Please note: I have previously stated that the travel time to SI New York HQ from NYC is about an hour and the facility is north of NYC, but... I didn't think that through... will you forgive me that I changed it?**

 **Strangely, I don't own anything Marvel-related.**

 **The song for this chapter is "Warriors" by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: PART 6: WE ARE THE WARRIORS_

* * *

Tony paced around the lab, schemes running through his mind, wondering if his mom was going to come home any time soon. If she came back to the house without him here, she would throw a fit. Glancing furtively at the door, the genius sat down impatiently, debating whether to call Maria. The TV, which he hadn't bothered to turn off before the ill-fated party, displayed yet another story on its glaring screen.

"The 15-mile hike to the outskirts of Gulmira can only be described as a descent into hell, into a modern day Heart of Darkness."

Here was something worth covering. Tony glanced at the display, his attention becoming fixated on it as he caught a glimpse of the horrors that these people, innocent people, were forced to go through.

"Simple farmers and herders from peaceful villages have been driven from their homes, displaced from their lands by warlords emboldened by a new-found power. Villagers have been forced to take shelter in whatever crude dwellings they can find in the ruins of other villages, or here in the remnants of an old Soviet smelting plant."

People were suffering, while he was here, in his basement lab, waiting for his mother to get back from a New York party.

"Recent violence has been attributed to a group of foreign fighters referred to by locals as the Ten Rings. As you can see, these men are heavily armed and on a mission. A mission that could prove fatal to anyone who stands in their way. With no political will or international pressure, there's very little hope for these refugees."

No international pressure to save someone's life from terrorists. What had the world come to? Tony got up, angrily jamming on one of his flight stabilizers.  
"Around me, a woman begging for news on her husband, who was kidnapped by insurgents, either forced to join their militia…"

Tony fired, searing a black stain across the polished concrete wall. Turning, in what he fancied to be a superhero motion, he blasted again, this time harder, carving a shallow depression into the thick rock. A final turn brought him to a glass panel. He stared at his face; the face of Tony Stark, boy genius, billionaire, who only cared about his popularity, his safety, and maybe his mother.

One blast in Tony Stark's face shattered that image.

Oblivious to the genius's rage, the TV droned on, covering a story that no one was going to do anything about. "Desperate refugees clutch yellowed photographs, holding them up to anyone who will stop. A child's simple question, 'Where are my mother and father?' There's very little hope for these refugees, refugees who can only wonder who, if anyone, will help."

Storming over, Tony shook his head. Maria Stark could worry about her son, for all he cared. No one should go through what he had. Someone was going to help those refugees, mark his words.

Not Tony Stark.

The Iron Man.

* * *

The suit covered Tony, the plating coating him in shining gold and glowing red. A thick glass panel covered the ARC reactor, blurring the glow so that it seemed to be a single bulb. Tugging his arms out of the robotic ones, he raised his head as the helmet was hooked around it, and the face-mask snapped down, encasing him completely in metal.

Taking off, the genius curved up the driveway once more, bursting above the clouds in an instant. Tony carefully toggled the extra boost, and the suit responded, breaking the sound barrier as he sped towards his target.

Farewell, Mom. Don't weep. Tony was going to prove his worth.

Hours later, as Tony was wondering when his mother would call him, he caught a glimpse of a shockwave that seemed very familiar. _A Jericho_. Coasting closer, he caught sight of a woefully small town, nestled in a valley. Already he could pick out people running in terror, as well as people running in the name of terror. As a family was ripped apart by Bearded Man, the father held at gunpoint while his son screamed, Tony gritted his teeth. Now or never.

Quickly losing altitude, he fell to the surface, the terrorists gazing up at his form in awe. The Iron Man landed, twisted up its head, and poised itself.

The man who had been holding the civilian at gunpoint opened fire upon the metal form, but the Iron Man stepped forward, punching the terrorist a little too hard and sending him flying into the second story of a half-demolished building. Turning without regret, Tony raised his right arm, firing a repulsor blast at a man and throwing him back, the concrete behind him crumbling. As men screamed and fired around him, a blast issued from his left hand and another terrorist fell back, unmoving. A double blast toppled a man over a crate of missiles.

Spinning towards the clamor of voices, Tony raised his hands - but ceased in his attack when he took in the sight. Four men were standing with civilians, guns to the innocent people's heads, yelling at the Iron Man in whatever language it was that they spoke and he didn't speak. It was enough to get the message. Slowly lowering his gauntlets, Tony rolled his fingers inward, and the Iron Man suit responded by powering down the repulsors. The HUD got to work, identifying the civilians and targeting the hostiles. Small panels opened up on the shoulders of the suit, and bullets flew out, killing each gun-wielder instantly. Tony took down the weapons and stood at attention.

"Papa!" exclaimed the boy from before, running forward. Father and son embraced, Tony looking on, a muddle of emotions in his mind. He was happy that the family was reunited, sure, but jealousy wasn't absent from his thoughts. How many times had he wished that he could do the same, embrace his father, be comforted?

The father glanced up, and gave a tentative smile to the hulking figure. "I am Ho Yinsen, sir, and I cannot give you enough thanks."

Tony jolted a little at the name; right here was the man who had saved him, who had put that infernal device in his chest. Now he was free, with his family.

No more time was permitted for sentimentality, as his suit alerted him to motion behind an obscuring wall. He walked over, Yinsen's son watching in awe. _Don't be so awed, I'm just your age,_ he thought to himself. Punching through the thick concrete, the Iron Man grabbed a shoulder and jerked back, pulling none other than Bearded Man through the wall.

He threw the despicable man to the ground in front of the newly freed citizens of Gulmira and uttered, his voice distorted by the helmet, "He's all yours."

Launching into the sky, the Iron Man soared, victorious, away from the liberated little town. Tony pondered what this turn of events would mean for his future.

Well, here he was. He was the fighter who saved the town from becoming nothing more than dust. He couldn't turn away from this path now, or he would never forgive himself.

He just _had_ to be Superman, didn't he?

Turning his head, Tony zoomed in on a point of a destroyed city on his HUD, finding an image of the Jericho superimposed on the screen. Before he could stream down and right his wrong, however, a small blast suddenly hit his side. Hurtling down, Tony let out a grunt as the Iron Man crashed headlong in front of a tank, which had evidently been the source of the blast. He planted a hand down and pushed himself up, aware that the suit was damaged and streaked. _Why must I always break my new toys?_

Standing up, Tony braced himself, dodging easily to the right as another missile flew at him. He raised his arm, and a tiny rocket popped out of the edge of the red gauntlet. It flew towards the offending tank, and when he affirmed its position, Tony turned and walked away.

Behind him, the tank disappeared in a fiery explosion of light and sound.

Walking down the decimated street, bullets rained down on the armored figure. The Iron Man paid no mind, as he reached the square where the Jericho resided, in all of its horrific glory. Rising up, Tony braced himself, then let out a full blast from both of his repulsors, aimed straight at the missile.

And oh, did it feel so _good_ when it burst apart in a golden explosion, nothing more than a sparkler in front of Tony's biggest firework. The Iron Man.

 _Farewell, weapons_ , Tony thought as he rose back up, breathing heavily from the adrenaline, turning homeward. _I won't sit on a throne of innocent bodies any longer_.

* * *

A ringtone filled Tony's ears, enticing him to notice it, to lose himself in whoever was calling. Focusing on the ringtone, the genius sighed as he recognized it as none other than Rhodey's. Of all the times… well, he had no real choice but to answer. It was only around midnight East Coast time, Rhodey knew he would still be up, one way or another. Maybe not on the other side of the world, but coherent enough to answer the phone. "Answer it, JARVIS," Tony instructed reluctantly. When the call started, he smiled, trying to make his voice sound happy. "Hello?"

"Tony?" answered Rhodey's voice, clearly annoyed.

Tony quickly responded with a distraction, knowing he had to stall his older friend. "Who is this?"

"It's Rhodes," was the terse response. Oh, Mr. LC was in a bad mood right now.

Continuing to take up time, Tony quirked an eyebrow (though Rhodey couldn't see that) and asked, "Sorry, who? Please speak up."

Rhodey sighed, done playing games. "I said, it's Rhodes. What in the hell is that noise?"

Tony's thoughts scrambled, not expecting stoic Rhodey to make demands right off the bat. "Oh, well, I'm driving with the top down."

"In New York. At midnight. With cops everywhere who don't give a damn who you are and will arrest you anyway," deadpanned the lieutenant colonel.

Tony winced, mumbling, "Out in the country?"

Rhodey, not buying the feeble excuse, still dropped the subject in favor of his main focus. "Listen, I need your help right now."

"That's funny, I could have used your help a couple times recently," Tony answered, trying to slip away from the question.

Sliding right back, Rhodey responded, "Yeah, well, speaking of funny, we've got a weapons depot that was just blown up a few clicks from where you were held captive."

Dammit. They must not have noticed his presence until after the explosions, a courtesy of the suit's small size. Since they clearly hadn't sent it out themselves, and because it was so close to, well, _there_ , they guessed who the most likely offender was.

Well, they guessed right.

Not that he was going to tell them that.

"Well, that must be a hot spot," responded Tony, realizing that his slight pause must have been suspicious, and resolving not to overthink things (too much, anyway). "Sounds like someone stepped in and did your job for you, huh?"

"Why are you out of breath, Tony?" quietly asked the airman, ignoring Tony's blusters.

Tony was regretting this more and more. "I'm not, I was just jogging in that canyon up north." Wait, he shouldn't have denied that he was out of breath, he was clearly out of breath, oh God…

"I thought you were driving," observed Rhodey.

Oops. "Right, I was driving… from the canyon, where I was jogging."*

Rhodey dropped the subject again, instead opting for a more direct approach with, "You sure you don't have any tech in the area that I should know about?"

Tony was tired of this - both of them knew that Tony wasn't going to answer truthfully. "Nope!"

Rhodey paused, evidently trying to pull apart the statement. As a mumbled voice cut in through the background, he sighed, responding with, "OK, good, 'cause I'm staring at one right now, and it's about to be blown to kingdom come."

Oh, shit.

Two F-22 Raptors rose up behind the Iron Man, their throbbing engines filling Tony's ears. If Rhodey hadn't suspected anything before, the sudden increase in volume would definitely tip him off. "That's my exit!" he exclaimed, not bothering to come up with an excuse. He ended the call just as the planes started to come up on him, forcing him to roll to the side. The Raptors mirrored the motion, although their turns were much wider.

Tony knew the customary procedure with this type of thing, having been exposed to the weapons industry for all of his life. They would try for radio contact (which he didn't have) and if the threat didn't respond, they were all clear to engage. As the suit leveled out, Tony toggled the supersonic flight feature, quipping "Hit it!" and the suit blazed out, speeding faster and faster. He could imagine the Air Force's reaction perfectly, right down to the missile JARVIS reported incoming, and fast.

"Flares!" he called out, and the Iron Man suit responded, sending little red bursts back at the warhead. Thrown outwards by the resulting blast, he cursed himself for not thinking this through. The already battered suit would only take so much more damage; he was lucky that the flares weren't damaged by his fall back in the devastated city, as some of his other systems surely were. A sense of deja-vu struck him as the repulsors sputtered and he lost altitude, before they recovered and he sped off again, the F-22s following like unhappy girlfriends.

No way the supersonics had lasted through that blast. Double shit.

As blasts issued from the lead plane, Tony tried to dodge them, but the maneuverability of the suit served no use when he was directly in front of his attacker. The genius gasped as projectiles hit his boots, jostling him and degrading his agility even further; he needed a better plan, before he went the same way the Jericho had.

"Deploy flaps!" he cried out, trying to buy some time, and the flaps actually worked this time around; his forward motion almost ceased. As the pilots zoomed past him, he grabbed onto a wing and held on as he shot forward again, maneuvering himself below the belly of the plane, where they couldn't see him. Now that he was off the radar, he just had to wait until… what? He couldn't get off in the air without them seeing him, and they would definitely notice if he went all the way back to the base with them. Not his most thought-out plan, by far.

Not that the whole debacle was well-thought-out in the first place.

As Tony thought more and more, he realized that he was in an impossible position. There was no stealth mode on his armor yet, let alone reflecting panels or Bat-cloaks or anything like that. He couldn't destroy the planes - these were good men, fighting for the same cause that he was. He still couldn't contact them - he didn't have a radio wired in.

He was probably going to regret this decision in about an hour, when he got back to New York, but he wouldn't regret being alive, after all.

"Call Rhodey," he murmured to JARVIS.

When the call patched through, he gave a quick but tired "Hey Rhodey, it's me," but before he could admit to what was going on, Rhodey quipped, "It's who?"

Grinding his teeth, Tony repeated, "I'm sorry, it is me. You asked, what you were asking about is me."

"No, see, this isn't a game!" Rhodey shouted, misinterpreting Tony's confession. "You do not send civilian equipment into my active war zone -"

"This is not a piece of equipment!" Tony exclaimed, his pitch climbing a little as he worried what would happen if the current chain of events continued. "I'm in it. It's a suit. It's me!"

Rhodey's intake of breath was audible over the raspy connection, and Tony screwed his eyes shut as an unknown voice asked in the background _Rhodey, you got anything for me?_ Oh, this was definitely not going well. "You need to tell them to disengage, I'm hiding but it won't last long. Please, Rhodey!"

Over the phone connection, he heard a garble of words, and the plane he was on banked, exposing its underbelly to the view of the other pilot. The man's eyes widened, and Tony could make a couple bets as to what he was saying, especially when the Raptor that the Iron Man was gripping started to twist in midair. He was slipping - he tried to hold on but he couldn't - he shouted, Rhodey answered but he couldn't make anything out - then he was off, flying backwards, straight into the wing of the trailing F-22.

Triple shit.

As he tried to regain balance and speed, Tony watched the plane fall, exploding just after a seat came bursting out. The pilot was OK for the time being, but Tony had a bad feeling - which grew worse as the seat continued to fall to the ground without a parachute coming up. Groaning, he turned and arched back to the falling man.

Over the phone, Tony heard several jumbled words - the call was still going, but Rhodey probably wasn't holding the phone. "Major… don't know… shooting at…"

When the remaining Raptor looped back around, Tony knew that Rhodey's plea had been in vain. JARVIS helped enormously by voicing, "You've been reengaged. Execute evasive maneuver."

"I know! Keep going!" exclaimed Tony - he wasn't about to let this man die. The Air Force would be even more pissed. Reaching the level of the falling man, he punched the chute container, hearing a satisfying _clang_ as the thin metal was torn through by his gauntlet. The chute sprang out, and as Tony glided away, the seat slowed in its descent. The man was safe.

As cheers came over the call, Tony did some loop-the-loops to work off his adrenaline, noting that the other Raptor was no longer focused on him. Flying victoriously homeward, he waited more than a little apprehensively as the audio from the call thudded, Rhodey picking up the phone again. "Tony, you still there?" he asked, clearly worried.

"Hey, thanks," Tony quipped.

Rhodey took in a deep breath. "Oh, my God, you crazy son of a bitch!"

Tony laughed, the way he had when Pepper had replaced his ARC reactor, as Rhodey took a few deep breaths. Finally, the Lieutenant Colonel deadpanned, "You owe me a plane. You know that, right?"

"Well, technically he hit me," noted Tony, pleased as the suit automatically pulled up a simulation of the crash over Rhodey's contact image. "Are you going to come over and see what I'm working on? It can be like a Tony and Pepper study session."

"No, no, no, no, no!" exclaimed the airman. "The less I know the better! If I know for sure you're risking your life, your mom's gonna find out." Tony pouted a little, since he really wanted to share the suit with someone at least, but didn't protest as his friend continued. "Now what am I supposed to tell the press?"

Tony grimaced; he was mildly annoyed with the press on his best days. On his worst? They were worse than Mr. Freeze's puns. "Training exercise. Isn't that the usual BS?"

Rhodey shook his head. "It's not that simple."

* * *

"An unfortunate accident involving an F-22 Raptor training exercise occurred earlier today," Rhodey's voice blared from the TV in Tony's lab, which he had forgotten to turn off. "I am pleased to report that the pilot was not injured. As for the unexpected turn of events on the ground in Gulmira, it is still unclear who or what intervened, but I can assure you that the United States government was not involved."

Tony groaned as the robotic arms tried to remove his suit. He hadn't really thought ahead, and now he was stuck with unsynced arms, trying to remove the suit, on a Sunday afternoon, while his mother was somewhere upstairs. The midday New York sun shone weakly through the grilled windows, as the genius tried to wiggle around to speed up the process, but only slowed it down as a result.

"Hey!" he cried out, as an arm pinched his leg. "Cut that out!"

"It is a tight fit, sir," JARVIS responded. As the genius only struggled more, the AI took on an exasperated tone. "Sir, the more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt."

"I designed this to come off," Tony muttered. "This is where a Batsuit is better than an Iron Man suit…" They were probably going to need a crowbar to get this thing off.

 _Note to self: next time, think procedure through from start to finish, not start to middle._

"Please, try not to move, sir," JARVIS warned. Tony was about to snark back, saying that he was the one being moved around, but a shocked gasp from behind him silenced his thoughts. Guiltily, Tony turned his head to see a floored Pepper, staring at the suit.

After a moment of silence, Tony tried to casually shrug. "Let's face it, there are much worse things you could've caught me doing."

"Are those bullet holes?" squeaked Pepper.

* * *

After a lot of explaining, Tony plopped into a chair, thinking out loud. "The weapons, they had to have been sold to the Ten Rings from Stark Industries. Judging from what Obadiah said at the party, he must be involved somehow." Turning to Pepper, he asked, "Where is Obadiah now?"

Pepper shrugged. "Last the press heard, he hopped on a plane somewhere, not long after you left the party. Some meeting with an anonymous buyer."

Tony formulated a plan carefully. "Something's not right, and we're gonna find out what." Glancing at Pepper, he smirked, although grimly. "Can I send you on an errand?"

Hesitantly, the strawberry blonde nodded.

"I need you to go to the Stark Industries offices. Remember where Obadiah's office is? You're going to hack into the mainframe and retrieve all the recent shipping manifests." Reaching towards the desk, he searched through the clutter until he found a tag and a small chip. "Here's a spare scanning tag, it'll get you through any authorized doors. This is a lock chip. It'll get you in. The info's probably under Executive Files. If not, they put it on a ghost drive, in which case you need to look for the lowest numeric heading."

Pepper's face had paled considerably. "And, if by some miracle I manage to make it back here, what will you do with this information?"

Tony shrugged, glancing at the suit. "Same drill. They've been dealing under the table and I'm going to stop them." He sighed, looking out. "I'm going to find my weapons and destroy them."

The strawberry blonde shook her head. "Tony, you know I would help you with anything, but I cannot help you if you're going to start all of this again."

Tony shook his head. "There is nothing except this. There's no gala, no stupid press conference. There's the next mission, and nothing else."

"Tony, I really can't do this!" exclaimed Pepper. "I'm taking Computer Sciences, sure, but I'm not going to be able to do something like this!"

The genius sighed. "You've stood by me like no other friend has before. Your spirit has never died when you're trying to help me, even when it's just a stupid thing like science homework. And now that I'm protecting the people that I put in harm's way, you're going to back out?"

"Tony, you're going to kill yourself," whispered Pepper. "I can't be a part of that."

Tony glanced up at his friend. "I shouldn't be alive, unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right."

It did feel right. In that one mission to save those people, where he had been acknowledged by one man, he had felt more righteous then when he came up with a new weapons design and the bureaucrats fell over themselves trying to thank him. The Iron Man could do something that actually helped the world, that didn't bring it closer to the brink.

"Don't worry, Pepper," Tony finished. "This is what I have to do, what I want to do."

The girl looked up to meet his gaze, and Tony caught a glimpse of her wet eyes before she responded, "You're all I have too, you know."

After a few moments, Pepper pointed out, "You do know that a teenager won't be able to get into that building alone, right? No matter how many times I say that I know you, they won't let me get close to Obadiah's office without a responsible adult."

Tony smirked. "That's exactly why I'm calling one in."

* * *

"You know that you don't have to do this, Ms. Dowe," Tony reminded over the phone. "This is your choice."

"Tony, don't worry," the teacher responded kindly. "This is for the good of the world, as you said. If I can make a difference, I will gladly help."

"Thank you so much," Tony sighed in relief. Placing his phone back on the table, he glanced over at Pepper. "She'll be by in twenty minutes to pick you up."

The strawberry blonde nodded resolutely. "I'll be careful."

Leaning back, Tony debated this course of action. Although he felt extremely guilty over pulling Ms. Dowe into this, he really had no other option; all the adults he could trust were busy. The righteous-hearted History teacher had agreed to help of her own free will, after all - she knew all of the risks, and still was willing to try and make a difference in the world. Still, he hadn't confessed everything to her. Ms. Dowe had only been told of Obadiah's expected betrayal, and nothing of the ARC or the suit. He was going to have to write who knew what down to keep track of it all.

Finally, Ms. Dowe called again, informing the two that she was in front of the house and ready for Pepper. As the strawberry blonde made to leave the lab, Tony laid a hand on her arm and stopped her. Holding out a can of pepper spray, he muttered, "Don't forget this."

Pepper grabbed the can, mumbled a word of thanks, and after a little internal debate, she suddenly kissed his cheek.

Tony felt his cheeks burn hot-rod red as the embarrassed girl made her get-away.

* * *

 **PEPPER POV**

As Ms. Dowe's battered Toyota pulled up in front of the Stark Industries headquarters, Pepper carefully handed Tony's spare scanning tag over. "Better hold on to it; it would look less suspicious for an adult to have it."

Ms. Dowe nodded in agreement, her face smoothing over into a mask of polite indifference. Pepper masked her emotions as well, hiding the uncertainty and fear under a business-like persona. The pair walked into the building, trying to act like they belonged, but Pepper wasn't sure how long it would last.

The 9th grader casually led the History teacher down the long hallways, stopping in front of an elevator that led to the higher-ups' offices. Quickly scanning the opening, the duo discretly slipped into the space, and the elevator shot upwards.

Once reaching the top level, Ms. Dowe waited by the elevator in order to keep watch and give Pepper a warning if anyone else came up. Walking down the aisle, Pepper recalled what Tony had told her about these offices, that time she had been here before. _R &D… Finances… Mrs. Stark's office… the CEO's office._ She gently gripped the half-moon handle, and slid into the room, cat-like and graceful. Sitting down at the computer, the strawberry blonde clicked off the screensaver and was confronted with a locked screen. Pulling out the lock chip, she carefully docked it to the computer. After a brief 'security breach' warning, a page of code opened up and she was granted access. Tony really was a genius. And handsome, and funny, and...

Slow down, Pepper. Focus on the task at hand.

Pepper initiated a brief scan, and a ghost drive was soon found. Eight files popped up, and she curiously investigated them. Two of them held weapons plans, which Pepper glanced at suspiciously before initiating the copying process to the lock chip. The third held odd plans to a suit of armor, a window in front of it marking as 'Sector_16'. What was this? What was Stane up to? Uneasily, Pepper once again initiated the copy process, before clicking the next file.

Her breath hitched as the video started. Men stood in front of a red flag, marked with ten rings encircling crossed swords. Most of the men had guns trained on two prisoners, locked in the center of the shot. One person was much shorter than the other, and had a heavily bandaged chest. A man stood to the side, reading out harsh words from a script.

Pepper actually gasped when the bags were ripped from the prisoner's heads, and the Starks, father and son, stared at the camera, blinking at the harsh sunlight in their faces.

Her friend was right there on the screen, blood seeping through the bandages about his chest, and Stane hadn't done anything? Hadn't released the video, hadn't alerted the army, nothing?

Remembering a smart bit of technology Tony had bragged about, she hesitantly typed in 'TRANSLATE', and a smooth male voice overlaid the video, translating the rapid words into English. "You did not tell us that the targets you paid us to kill were the great Starks. As you can see, Obadiah Stane, your lies and deceptions will cost you dearly. The price to kill Howard and Tony Stark has just gone up."

There was more after that, but Pepper didn't pay any attention, sitting back from the table in some sort of sick fascination. The co-CEO of Stark Industries, Tony's godfather, a man whom Tony had trusted, was the one who had ordered the hit on the Starks. He was the reason that Mr. Stark was dead and Tony had a hole in his chest.

She was so dazed, she almost didn't hear Ms. Dowe's frenzied voice. "Mr. Stane? We had no idea you would be back so early. I believe that there are some papers downstairs for you to sign?" Pepper gulped, initiating the download for the rest of the files. She couldn't leave without this evidence… but then again, she had to leave, period. The strawberry blonde watched the progress bar, urging it to speed up, and the moment that it was complete, the lock chip was safely stowed in her hand, the screensaver was up, the chair was back in its former position, and she was almost sprinting towards the door. Just as she placed her hand on the door pull, the panel swung open and Obadiah Stane was there, staring at her, perplexed.

She wasted no time in pulling out her pepper spray and blasting him, straight in the face.

Dashing out to a chorus of wheezes, she caught Ms. Dowe by the arm and pulled the History teacher to the elevator. "Come on, we gotta go, we gotta go!" she exclaimed, jumping into the elevator and sending it on its way almost before Ms. Dowe could make it inside.

"Did you find what Tony wanted you to find?" the teacher asked apprehensively.

Pepper shuddered, thinking of the horrible truth that she had found in that data. "I found information, yes, but I don't know if it was what Tony wanted…"

Ms. Dowe frowned, obviously wishing for more details, but she resolved not to ask for them. As the elevator came to a stop on the ground floor, Pepper towed Ms. Dowe out as quickly as she could, knowing that her pepper spray was, in fact, diluted, and would only be debilitating for about five minutes.

They were delayed, however, by the appearance of another teacher, one who had strange, secret-agent type tendencies.

"Phil?" asked Ms. Dowe, confused. Mr. Coulson turned, impeccable in his expensive black suit. He looked confused and a little worried, highly contrasting with Tony's description of him as an unshakable robot.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing here?" Mr. Coulson asked.

Aware of their ever-narrowing time limit, Pepper motioned for them to hurry up. "If you don't mind, Mr. Coulson, either wait here or come with us. We need to get out of here."

Shrugging, the man accompanied them to the Toyota, where Ms. Dowe insisted he get in. Once they were inside, Pepper locked the doors, deemed the location secure, and explained what she had seen on the files, to Ms. Dowe's growing horror and Mr. Coulson's growing reluctance. Surprisingly, the latter pulled out a small laptop and asked politely for the lock chip. She handed it over, and he plugged it in, his Captain America wallpaper soon obscured by the eight files. When the files were opened, Coulson searched through them methodically, checking different blueprints and e-mail copies. After some time, he sat back to ponder these developments, and Pepper did the same.

She focused on the screen, which displayed the blueprints for that suit. Funny, it had a similar basic design to Tony's suit, right down to the… the hole in the chest. Reaching out tentatively to the computer's touch pad, she carefully zoomed in on the notes around it, confirming that the cavity was for an ARC reactor. She had researched ARC reactors after she stuck one in her friend's chest, and as far as she knew, a miniature had been deemed impossible to create. Tony was the first, and probably only, person to create a small enough one…

If Obadiah Stane had this suit, and he hadn't used it yet, he must be waiting for something - a power source. He must know that Tony had the only working power source… and he would stop at nothing to get to his goals, she could see that.

"Tony's in danger," she announced. The two adults glanced at her in confusion, but she resolutely continued. "Look, I can't tell you how exactly I know, but trust me, Stane's going to come after him. We need to warn him..."

"We can't leave now," Coulson responded. "This 'Sector 16' seems to be somewhere within the Stark Industries complex. We need to scope it out, and if Stane comes back here, we need to be ready for him."

Pulling out her phone, Pepper tried to call Tony, but his voicemail came up. "Dammit! Someone needs to check on him." Desperately, the strawberry blonde scrolled through their text string, until she found an 'Emergency Contact' he had sent her. Calling the number, she waited patiently, the teachers anxiously anticipating her answer.

Finally, the other end picked up, and an unfamiliar voice answered, "Rhodes?"

"Hello, Colonel Rhodes," Pepper responded. "I'm Pepper Potts, Tony Stark's friend. There's a situation with Obadiah Stane, and Tony's in danger. Could you check up on him? I'll explain on your way over."

Rhodes seemed to hesitate, but Tony must have mentioned her name at least once, because he finally sighed and told her, "I'm seven minutes away, I'll keep you posted."

Pepper put on a tired smile, thanked him, and ended the call. Turning to the teachers, she asked, "Mr. Coulson? We don't know where to look, plus if Stane does come back soon, he'll need to be dealt with. How would we do that?"

The Calculus teacher studied his watch, then pulled out his phone. "We're not going to do it. My friends are doing it."

* * *

 ***I know that in the movie, Tony screws up a little more with his lie, but I think he can do better than that.**

 **Whew! First POV switch-a-roo! I'm usually good about getting into different character's heads, but I've been so fixated on Tony, it was really hard. Sorry if she seems too much of a copy of Tony's ideas!**

 **Reviews motivate me to update!**

 **See you next time!**

 **~Horseluv**


	7. It's where my demons hide

**Two weeks... I'm sorry, guys. Really! I wanted to update within a week, and Life was like: You wanna update? Here, a new fandom to distract you! Here, Pinterest! Here, an English paper that you have ten days to finish! Here, your pony got hit by a car and is gonna be recovering for 6 months! Here, a new puppy! Here, a book for English that you have to read, and actually like so you'll waste time on it!**

 **Basically, Life hates me.**

 **This is the last IM origin chapter, and then I'll move on to... Hulk! Don't worry, he'll only be like 4 chapters.**

 **Be careful with this chapter, it gets... dark... a little angsty... I'm leaving story threads to return to, and they aren't happy, so... proceed with caution.**

 **To forsakenfoxshadow: Aw, thank you! Hopefully this is just as good!**

 **The song for this chapter is "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. Hopefully you can guess why...**

* * *

 _IRON MAN: PART 7: IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE_

* * *

Tony paced the length of his lab, hoping that Ms. Dowe and Pepper would be back soon. That information was important if he was to stop these betrayals, once and for all.

The fact that it would probably involve Obadiah, and not in a good way, kept presenting itself, but Tony shoved the thought down.

His family would survive this.

He couldn't lose the rest of his family.

A sudden crash upstairs called for his attention, and he cautiously crept up. His mother had recently left for the office, but not before warning him that there were certain _things_ they needed to talk about. Tony would bet the Iron Man suit that it was about Saturday night.

No time to worry about a lecture now. More importantly, who was upstairs now?

As Tony entered the living room, wincing at the sight of the open hole in the workshop roof below him, he heard the voice, slightly congested, calling his name. _Obadiah. He's back already…_

Obadiah walked into the room, glanced at Tony, and smiled. Walking over, the CEO clapped the young genius on the back. His red-rimmed eyes gleamed with knowledge, some secret he was about to reveal. Tony was about to ask what the hell was going on, but a sudden, piercing sound wormed its way into his ears.

Against his will, his body began to slump, and he fell straight into Obadiah, who lowered him gently on the couch. Trying to turn his head, the genius felt rather than watched Obadiah move around him, and he couldn't avert his eyes when the man stuck a device in front of his face.

"You recognize this?" Obadiah Stane asked. Tony tried to focus in on the damn thing, but when he dimly recalled it being a weapon, he tried not to think about it. _No. That's not me. That's not me anymore._

 _It might be Obadiah, but it's not me._

"It's a shame the government didn't approve it," the corrupt CEO continued. "There's so many applications for short-term paralysis."

Tony tried to twitch, to inch away, to scream, _anything,_ but he couldn't.

He was useless, blood dribbling out of his ears as he sat there, as another one of his family members was lost to him.

"Tony," Obadiah admitted, "when I ordered the hit on you and your father, and your father didn't make it out, I worried I had killed the golden goose."

No. This wasn't happening. This man, who had been his friend for all of Tony's life, couldn't be the man who sentenced Howard Stark to a painful, lonely death. He couldn't be the one who had changed Tony's life for the worse. This man that he had hailed couldn't be the worst of them all.

But in the end, hadn't Tony, genius that he was, always known?

"But you see, it was just fate that you survived it," continued Obadiah. _Not Obadiah. Stane._ "You were the one with that last golden egg."

Pulling out a strange device, Stane poised it over Tony's chest. The machine suddenly clamped down, prying the ARC reactor out of its secure socket. Turning the handles, his godfather pulled the reactor out of his chest, only leaving the single connecting cord between the two.

Tony tried to shake with rage, tried to punch Stane right in his pearly teeth, but all he could do was sit as the CEO continued his villain monologue.

"Do you really think that just because you have an idea, it belongs to you?" the corrupt man asked. "Your grandfather, he helped give us the atomic bomb. What kind of world would it be today if he were as selfish as you?"

One final tug was all it took for the cord to disconnect. Tony was alone, with a socket in his chest and shrapnel starting to creep closer.

He glared daggers at Stane, but he couldn't retaliate as the man disconnected the prying machine from his ARC reactor. Playing with the glowing blue device, Stane commented, "Oh, it's beautiful. Tony, this is your Ninth symphony. What a masterpiece." The greedy CEO wiggled the device tantalizingly in front of Tony, who yearned to take it, to stick it back in his chest, to save himself, but he could do nothing as the man he had trusted let him die. "Look at that. This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons, with this at its heart. Weapons that will steer the world back on course, put the balance of power back in our hands. The right hands."

Standing up, Stane stretched out his back before looking back at Tony, who valiantly twitched his finger in defiance, and continued his speech. "I wish you could've seen my prototype. It's not as… well, not as conservative as yours."

Meaning that it was probably loaded with about a thousand guns and made to the expectations of a madman.

As Obadiah turned to walk out of the room, he coughed and paused. "Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this. I would have preferred that she lived." He turned and left, leaving the genius to his thoughts.

No. What had Tony been thinking? How could he have shoved his cute, spicy Pepper into danger like this?

All of these efforts had been so that people like her could be safe.

He had to do something.

Straining his unwilling muscles, Tony slowly raised one arm, then the other. Bringing them back down, he pushed himself off of the couch. The genius inched his way across the floor, trying desperately to use his legs in his endeavors to move, but failing to move any faster. Pushing himself to the service elevator, he raised his arm and punched the button to go down to his lab. As the first painful twinge from his chest pulsated through his frayed nerves, Tony slumped against the wall, his mind screaming _get up or you'll die_ , while his body stubbornly disobeyed.

The elevator doors opened, and Tony shoved himself to the side, falling out onto the floor. He fought his way over to his workbench, where Pepper's gift to him sat. Even as the paralysis started to wear off, the pain in his chest grew exponentially, and as Tony drew closer to the mounted device, he was fighting the fire in his chest, hoping that he could get out of this mess at least somewhat intact.

As a voice shouted from above him, calling him, Tony reached the table, but his strength was gone. He tried to reach for the device, but he wasn't strong enough. He slumped to the ground, resigned to his fate - he had tried everything - then blinked in confusion when a claw came out of nowhere, carefully gripping the old ARC reactor. DUM-E gently moved the case down, but jerked back upward when frenzied footsteps came towards them.

Rhodey turned Tony over onto his back, the normally stoic man panicking. "Tony? What the hell just happened? Are you OK? Tony?" His worried voice suddenly paused, and Tony idly thought, _Oh. He noticed the hole in my chest._

Before Rhodey could say or do anything, DUM-E waved the ARC reactor in front of the military man's face. Normal confusion overtaking the horrified confusion in his head, the man took it from the AI, eyes widening when he realized just where the device was supposed to go. Without any more hesitation, Rhodey smashed the case onto the ground, trembling fingers prying the reactor from its mount. He took the cord and poised it uncertainly above Tony's chest, jumping a little when the genius reached up and gently directed his hands in the right direction.

The cord of the ARC reactor finally made contact with the base plate, and as Rhodey slowly twisted the device back into its socket, Tony let out a deep breath, the pain immediately starting to lessen. Rhodey watched him as the genius carefully sat up, avoiding the military man's guarded gaze.

"Rhodey, I'm so sorry, I was going to tell you but I couldn't let anyone else on that plane know and then my mom was there and she _can't_ know and I wanted to make sure you wouldn't tell her and then there was the whole weapons deal and -"

Tony's increasingly frantic rambling was cut off when Rhodey's arms enveloped him, hugging him close. A stray tear might have dripped onto Tony's shoulder as the military man whispered in a wavering voice, "It's OK, kiddo. It's OK."

Tony sat there a moment before apologetically moving away from Rhodey. "Where are Pepper and Ms. Dowe?" he asked.

Rhodey shook his head. "I don't really know. Something about a Mr. Coulson? Five government agents? Whatever it is, they're gonna arrest Stane."

Tony instincts for the win. Coulson had been way too, well, _agent-like_.

Still. If Stane had a suit, not even super-spy-military-people were taking him out.

"That's not gonna be enough," muttered Tony, walking out to the middle of the room.

At a word from him, the arms slid out of compartments, hooking a new Mark III armor around him. Rhodey watched the proceedings in awe. "That's the coolest thing I've ever seen," he commented in admiration.

"Not bad, huh?" responded the young genius. Climbing up on top of the smashed car, directly under the hole left from his first less-than-perfect landing, he poised himself as the helmet snapped over his face. "Let's do this."

"Wait!" Rhodey exclaimed. "You need me to do anything else?"

Was it just him, or was the man looking at the Mark II armor?

"Keep the skies clear," Tony decided, as the repulsors activated. He looked up, and soared gracefully into the sky, towards SI.

"How do you think the Mark 1 chest piece is going to hold up?" Tony asked JARVIS, mindful of a problem; his original ARC reactor had been built on time constraints, and was definitely not as efficient as his normal one.

"The suit's at 48% power and falling, sir," the AI responded, confirming his fear. "That chest piece was never designed for sustained flight."

Tony had a short, fierce debate with himself. One side won out, for better or for worse. His flight path didn't waver. "Keep me posted."

* * *

A call came up on Tony's HUD, shaking his racing thoughts off of their tracks. He answered as soon as his brain perceived who the person on the other end of the line was, and exclaimed, "Pepper!"

"Tony!" his friend responded. Judging by the background exclamations on the line, Ms. Dowe was there too. "Tony, are you OK?"

Shaking his head, Tony responded, "I'm mostly intact, how are -"

Interrupting, Pepper exclaimed, "Stane, he's gone insane! The files -"

"I know," interrupted Tony in turn. "Listen, you'd better get out of there."

If something happened to Pepper, he could never forgive himself.

"He built a suit!" Pepper continued, ignoring his command.

Tony looked up in front of him; the Stark Industries complex stretched out before him, mostly dark by this time of night. Outside of the ARC reactor room, he zeroed in on two moving forms - Pepper and Ms. Dowe. Before his eyes, the pavement in front of them cracked, crumbling like a cookie - and then, emerging from the ground below, was a huge suit of armor, with glowing blue eyes and a cold blue circle where its heart would be.

Obadiah.

"Get out of there RIGHT NOW!" he screamed over the connection, trying to push the suit faster. While Ms. Dowe tried to pull her back, Pepper, too frozen to move, simply stared as Stane boomed an incoherent monologue at her, aimed a machine gun at her face -

"STANE!" Tony roared, diving right above the building and coming in hot, straight towards the suit of armor.

Ms. Dowe was going to have a _lot_ of questions when this was wrapped up.

The suit's arm jerked up, aiming for him, but the two entities had already collided, crashing back through the ground and straight through the underground bunker. The combined momentum of the suits sent them hurtling through a wall - straight into civilian traffic.

 _No!_

Crashing straight through a truck trailer, the weapons monger and his former apprentice landed on the other side of the highway, flipping over a car and causing several others to slide and collide into each other. One vehicle came to a stop right in front of Stane, the mother and children inside screaming bloody murder while the mom - she looked familiar, wasn't she that Carrie person? - honked the horn. Their cries only intensified when they were lifted up by the hulking metal figure, who brandished the object above its head while its controller yelled, "I love this suit!"

"Put them down!" Tony shouted in return, mindful of the people whose lives depended on his words.

Stane, however, didn't care. "Collateral damage, Tony," he growled, lifting the civilians even higher above his head and preparing to throw it.

Rolling his fingers, Tony disabled the repulsors, eerily reminded of when he had last done it - was it really only last night? This morning, even? "Divert power to chest RT," the genius murmured, bracing himself for the kick.

The middle of his chest lurched back with the sudden blast, and a burst of blue light hit Stane, sending him flying backwards into another, thankfully unoccupied, car, while the one he had been holding pitched forward. Stepping forward, Tony lifted his arms and _caught_ the vehicle, straining violently to keep it from flipping right over his head. JARVIS warned that the suit was depleted to 19% power, and Tony suddenly bore even more of the weight with his own admittedly average muscles. Falling on one knee, he finally brought the car back down - but the driver pushed down on the gas, _hard_ , just before the wheels hit the ground, and the vehicle flew off, Tony still gripping the hood.

"Lady!" he yelled, trying to at least get a reaction, but the car's speed only intensified as Iron Man's fingers started to slip, gouging long, silver streaks into the black paint. "No, no, no no no no -" and then he was on the underside of the car, caught by his chest between the edge of the car and the road, being dragged along. Putting his arms out, Tony lifted the back end of the car, dropping it as soon as he was clear. Forward momentum taken away, Iron Man rolled and screeched to a stop, glancing up as a cry came from above.

Stane's suit came barreling towards him, leaping over a car while rockets boosted his altitude. Some stupid motorcyclist came screaming through, and Stane grabbed the motorcycle right out from under him, brandishing this new weapon at the shaky red-and-gold-clad hero. Slamming it into the teenager, Stane sent Tony flying into yet another automobile, and this time, Tony only made it to his hands and knees before the CEO reached him.

"For all of your life, I've been holding you up!" yelled Stane, kicking Tony back into a bus. He grabbed the young genius and brandished the suit over his head. Throwing him back down, he started to crush it with his suit's enormous foot. "I built this company from nothing!"

Seemingly unsatisfied with how much progress he was making in his 'smash Tony to spare parts' quest, Stane snatched up the smaller suit and threw Iron Man into the bus, with enough force that the vehicle was almost torn apart. "Nothing is going to stand in my way, least of all you!" Turning around and activating a rocket launcher, Stane aimed and fired, sending the bus up in a supernova explosion of pure white light.

Tony was thrown up by the blast, but his suit was still intact - thank goodness for satellite-grade alloy - and as he fell towards the ground, he activated his repulsors and flipped upright, hovering in midair.

"Impressive!" Stane boomed, leering at the little bug that had so far managed to evade him. "You've upgraded your armor! I've made some upgrades of my own!" The feet of his suit slid down, creating a flatter platform, and then the monstrosity was in the air, propelled by a sputtering beam of white. Not as refined as Tony's ice-blue repulsors, but still enough to meet Stane's needs.

Shit.

"Sir, it appears his suit can fly," supplied JARVIS.

"Duly noted," sighed Tony. A plan formulated in his mind, and he instructed, "Take me to maximum altitude."

The AI, managing to sound worried despite his artificial voice, stated, "With only fifteen percent power, the odds of reaching that -"

"I know the math!" snarled Tony. "Do it!"

Obediently, the suit rose upwards like a rising star over the New York skyline, Stane following after him at a slower pace, his suit belching out smoke as it went along, but showing no signs of stopping.

 _He couldn't have tested the suit. It's still the same material as the old suit. No way he knows about the icing, right? He definitely didn't test it. If he had tested the suit anywhere near here, the Army would have flipped out._

 _The Army must be flipping out right now, as a matter of fact. Please calm them down, Rhodey. Tell them it's a training exercise._

"Thirteen percent power, sir," JARVIS warned.

Tony, disregarding, stated, "Climb!" This was their one shot! They couldn't back down now!

Within ten seconds, JARVIS reevaluated with, "Eleven percent."

"Keep going!" the genius exclaimed, glancing back. Was that the first brush of frost on Stane's suit?

Soon, JARVIS warned, "Seven percent power -"

"Just leave it on the screen!" Tony interrupted. "Stop telling me!"

Seeing and feeling the light of the ARC reactor beginning to flicker, Tony clenched his teeth and pushed on, slowly growing aware that the hissing sound of Stane's rockets, instead of growing dimmer with ice interference, was somehow getting… louder?

A sudden hand on his right boot clamped down, pulling Tony down. Stane tugged him down to the other suit's level and began slugging him, before locking him in a hold around his neck.

"You had a great idea, Tony," bellowed the deranged old man, "but my suit is more superior in every way!"

Now that Tony was up close, he could clearly see the film of ice that locked over Stane's suit.

"How'd you solve the icing problem?" he asked.

"Icing problem…" muttered the CEO in confusion, before the ice completely sealed off the suit, the blue light of the eyes dying out and the rockets sputtering to a stop.

"Might want to look into it," Tony muttered.

The genius gave the suit a solid knock on the head, and Obadiah Stane fell, in his metal coffin, back down to earth.

Hovering above it all, Iron Man took in the broad skyline, trying hard not to watch as his former mentor fell from the graces of earth into Hell, where he belonged.

Good.

JARVIS, overcoming his earlier instructions to shut his speaker, warned, "Two percent. We are now running on emergency backup power."

Suddenly, the repulsors of his suit sputtered out, dropping him several yards before activating once again. Tony's stomach flopped inside of him, and he struggled to bite down the nausea as the suit continued the erratic descent. He let out a little "whoa" as the suit dropped a little too far for comfort on one burst.

 _Note to self - reserve enough power to land properly next time._

Nearing the ground, Tony tried to land gracefully, but when the repulsors sputtered out yet again, he lurched forward, taking out a railing on one of his buildings and slamming painfully into the rooftop. Pulling himself up by one hand, he called his friends, the only ones who would really know what went down tonight. "Pepper?"

"Tony!" screeched the strawberry blonde in distress. "Oh my God, are you OK?"

"I'm almost out of power," Tony responded, pulling off his left gauntlet even as he spoke. "I've got to get out of this thing, and we need to get back and fabricate another ARC. I'll be right there."

He snapped the faceplate up, ready to break down the armor, but a sudden rush of air sounded from behind him. The genius turned to see Stane, his suit still intact, fist poised to strike him. "Nice try!" he bellowed, swinging erratically.

Closing the faceplate, Tony dived under Stane's blow, raising his hand to blast him - but he realized too late that it was his bare hand. Striking a glancing blow, Stane sent him spinning backwards, cracking his HUD. Rallying back, Tony used his three remaining boosters to rise up and come down with a hard punch, but the other suit grabbed him around the middle, locking him in an unyielding grip. The genius grunted as Stane squeezed, slowly crushing him.

"Weapons status?" Tony asked desperately, but JARVIS responded that the repulsors and missiles were offline. Thinking quickly, the genius yelled, "Flares!" Sporadic balls of light flew out, bouncing all over the suits and effectively blinding Stane.

"Very clever, Tony," the madman muttered, searching for the Iron Man as Tony scrambled back behind a wall. This was bad. Very, very, very bad. They needed a new plan.

Activating the call once again, Tony whispered, "Pep."

"Tony!" shouted Pepper, sounding on the verge of tears. Oh, thank God that the suit only projected his own sounds, not those from calls.

"This isn't working," Tony informed her, channeling his inner JARVIS. "We're going to have to overload the big reactor and blast the roof."

"Well, how are you going to do that?" asked Pepper quizzically.

"You and Ms. Dowe are going to do it," he responded, speaking as quickly and clearly as possible. "Go to the central console, open up all the circuits. When I get clear of the roof, I'll let you know. You're going to hit the master bypass button. It's going to fry everything up here. Once you hit that, run like hell."

As Obadiah stalked closer, he heard Pepper relay the instructions to Ms. Dowe, and the crunching of broken glass as they walked through the busted ARC reactor entrance room. "OK, we're going in now," Pepper confirmed.

"Make sure you wait until I clear the roof," Tony reminded. "I'll buy you some time."

Jumping out, Iron Man leaped onto the back of Stane's suit, digging his fingers into the crevices between the suit's head and its torso. Despite the cracks in the HUD, it still readily identified where connecting wires lay, and Tony acted upon it's advice, forcing out a cheerful "This looks important!" as he tore out the guts of the suit. One particularly thick cord came out with his tugs, and the eyes of the suit went dark for good. This must even the playing field somehow.

Even without seeing the annoying pest on his back, Stane managed to grab Iron Man by the faceplate. Swinging his hand forward, the giant adversary catapulted Tony forwards, his helmet wrenching off in the process. Tony landed hard, skidding across the glass until he was right above the ARC reactor. Looking down, he could see Pepper and Ms. Dowe, furiously flipping switches and pressing buttons.

The chestplate of the hulking gray armor split apart, and Stane's leering face stared out at him, holding the Iron Man helmet in his metal fist. "I never had a taste for this sort of thing," he commented, "but I must admit, I'm deeply enjoying the suit!" Staring at the helm, he suddenly crushed it, casting it towards the downed genius, who gulped - just a little - upon seeing the utterly crushed piece of metal. Tony glared up, utter hatred in his eyes, as Stane stalked towards him.

"You finally outdid yourself, Tony!" the madman announced to the heavens, raising his metal arms up. "You made your father proud!"

 _No. Not Dad. Please. Don't mention him._

 _I already failed him - he could never be proud of me._

Growling, Tony struggled to his feet, barely noticing Pepper's warning cry below him. Before he could attack, Stane raised his arm, the same one he had threatened Pepper with earlier. He let loose a storm of bullets, spraying out in all directions around Tony. Raising his gauntlet, the genius expanded the plating outward, creating a makeshift shield. Stane, realizing that this course of action wouldn't get him anywhere, directed his attack to the glass below Tony's feet, which shattered and left Tony hanging by one hand, directly over the ARC reactor. He could hear Pepper and Ms. Dowe's alarm as the glass shards rained down on them.

"How ironic, Tony!" the deranged man cried out, dying to give a lecture even now, when victory was within his grasp. "Trying to rid the world of weapons, you gave it its best one ever!"

No. The Iron Man was a tool, not a weapon. It could be used for peace, or war, depending on who wielded it.

He hadn't made a mistake. He had made a solution.

Right?

Suddenly doubting himself, Tony glanced down, where the blue light of the ARC reactor glowed, benevolent despite the raging battle above it. One thing was certain; Stane and his suit had to be destroyed.

And if the Iron Man had to be destroyed along with it, was that really such a bad thing?

All those demons that he had, gone forever? Fine with him.

"Now I'm going to kill you with it," Stane continued, oblivious to Tony's decision.

"Pepper! Ms. Dowe!" Tony called down, trying to keep his voice from breaking, to where the two were crouched. "Time to push the button!"

Stane launched a rocket at the trapped genius, but it flew way off of its mark. "You ripped out my targeting system," he muttered, almost explaining the situation to an unseen audience.

"You're too close!" Pepper cried back.

"Push it!"

With a tear or two running down her face, but no further attempts to argue, Pepper jammed down on the button, the pair dashing out as soon as the deed was done.

A great beam of light shot up from the overloaded reactor, pouring into the sky. The power lifted Tony up, and he closed his eyes - but then he was back, on the side of the opening, out of the way of the blast.

Obadiah wasn't so lucky.

The front of his suit was completely fried, the madman himself falling unconscious. Without any power, the mammoth suit was free to fall forward, through the hole, straight into the reactor.

A fiery explosion plumed up, Tony using the last of his strength to roll clear.

He lay there, the ARC reactor in his chest weakly flickering, flickering… holding steady.

* * *

 **Monday morning.**

"You've all received the official statement of what occurred at Stark Industries last night," Rhodey announced to the clicks and murmurs of the press. "There have been unconfirmed reports that a robotic prototype malfunctioned and caused damage to the ARC reactor. Fortunately, a member of Maria Stark's personal security staff…"

Seated in an annoying plastic chair, Tony looked over a newspaper, which was reporting its version of events, asking 'Who is the Iron Man'?

He _might_ have planted the name somewhere. If he was going to be an actual superhero, he might as well have a name that he liked.

Pepper sat next to him, having insisted on getting out of school and coming for support, tapping her leg nervously. An empty chair was next to her, evidence of where Rhodey had been a moment ago. Closest to the door sat Maria, calm as ever.

Tony glanced up sharply as a door creaked open, revealing none other than Mr. - no, Agent - Coulson. The three watched him as he walked forth, handing Maria and Tony some cards. "Here's your alibi," he stated tersely. "You two were in D.C, finalizing the end of all Stark Industries weapons dealings. The suit was on hand at SI in case of problems, and remotely neutralized the problem. Just read it, word for word."

Tony nodded absently, scanning the cards, which contained both statements. "There's nothing about Stane in here," he noted bitterly.

"That's being handled," the elusive government agent responded. "He's on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record."

So the world wouldn't know that, as Stane went to his grave, he was the one who made all the messes, put up that masquerade to get away with what he wanted.

Shrugging and driving the dire thoughts away, Tony decided, "It's your story, not mine." Leaning in closer, aware of how his mother was engaged in the cards, he asked, "Now, the big question is, what's the cover story you gave my mom? How much does she know?"

He had explained the whole series of events, from Afghanistan to what happened with the ARC, to Pepper, Ms. Dowe, Rhodey, and Coulson, but had resolutely refused to come clean to his mom. It would just worry her too much.

Coulson rubbed the back of his head tiredly. "Your mother knows that Stane was the pilot of the suit, and she knows about his double dealings. We told her that your suit was a prototype of Howard's that you were upgrading, and it was remotely deployed to stop Stane."

Tony made a bit of a face. "Isn't that - that it was remotely - I mean, it's kind of flimsy, isn't it?"

Coulson gave one of those insufferably calm smiles. "This isn't my first rodeo, Mr. Stark."

"Tony," he corrected.

 _Mr. Stark is my dad. Not me._

"Anthony," Coulson compromised. "Just stand there while your mom talks, smile, say something cheeky, and it'll be a curtain call."

A TV aide warned them that they had 90 seconds until the Starks were up. As Coulson moved to exit, Maria gave him a quiet "Thank you".

Tony wasn't about to fall over himself thanking the man; despite being a government agent masquerading as a teacher to keep an eye on Tony for his super-spy organization (yeah, that had been a ball to hear), Coulson was going to continue teaching until the end of the school year. Tony would have to see him every day at school.

What a joy that would be.

"Let's get this show on the road!" someone called out, and the hustle and bustle of the backstage men commenced, right on schedule. Pepper leaned over to Tony, helping him remove a small sticker from his face, muttering something under her breath about "lying to everybody" and "he'll screw up eventually".

"You know, it's actually not that bad," Tony responded, taking a bit of pleasure in how she jumped, not realizing how audible she was. "Even I don't think I'm Iron Man."

Pepper gave him a look, and told him, with no small amount of sarcasm, "You're not Iron Man."

"Nope."

"All right, suit yourself," Pepper sighed. "You just have to convince the world of the fact."

Tony snickered, but sobered up rather quickly. Glancing up at his friend, he tentatively commented, "You know, if I were Iron Man, I'd have this girlfriend who knew my true identity."

Pepper didn't immediately slap him, so he continued, "She'd be a wreck, 'cause she'd always be worrying that I was going to die, yet so proud of the 'man' I'd become. She'd be wildly conflicted, which would only make her more crazy about me."

Glancing back down, and lowering his voice a little more so that Maria definitely couldn't hear them, he voiced, "Tell me you never think about that night."

"What night?" asked Pepper, her tone hard to read.

Tony shrugged. "You know."

Pepper spared a slightly exasperated glance for him. "Two nights ago, when we danced and then you left to blow up weapons, or last night when you were willing to sacrifice yourself for a plan that easily could've backfired?"

Oh, yeah.

"Um, the first one?"

"Thought so," Pepper responded dryly. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

As the broadcasters motioned to the Starks, getting them to stand up and move towards the spotlight, Tony sighed. "That will be all, Miss Potts."

Pepper still gave him an encouraging thumbs-up when he left, so they were at least friends. He didn't have to worry about that.

He still had to worry about potentially revealing one of his darkest secrets to the entire world, but some things couldn't be helped.

"And now, Mrs. Stark and Anthony Stark have prepared statements," Rhodey continued, as the mother and son entered the room. "They will not be taking any questions." Stepping back, Rhodey allowed Maria to step forward and assume command of the conference. He lined up against the wall, almost behind her and directly next to Tony, squeezing the genius's clammy hand as Maria started to explain their version of events to the press.

All too soon, Maria was done, and Tony was the one stepping up. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Been awhile since you've heard from me. Guess I won't do anything drastic." The crowd chuckled appreciatively. "Anyway, there's been speculation that I've been involved in the events that occurred on the rooftop and the freeway -"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," a reporter - Carrie Everlong again? - interrupted, "but you honestly expect us to believe that that was a remote suit that conveniently appeared -"

"I know that it's confusing," Tony interrupted in turn, daring to look up from the cards while Maria shook her head in frustration in the background. "It is one thing to question the official story, and another thing entirely to make wild accusations, or insinuate that I'm a superhero."

Carrie - or was it Christine? - cocked her head and responded, "I never said you were a superhero."

Oh. Shit. "Didn't? Well, good, because that would be outlandish and fantastic." God, he was only screwing up more… "I'm just not the hero type. Clearly…"

Rhodey leaned forward before he could blunder more and whispered, "Stick to the cards, man."

Cards. Right. Just the cards. "OK, I was not involved. I was in D.C, as my mother already told you. The 'Iron Man', as you have taken to calling it," or how he had made them call it (haha), "is still Stark Industries property, and…"

It was going to go under wraps again?

That wasn't right.

If he had the capacity to help, shouldn't he be helping in any way he could?

He couldn't just let SHIELD tell him to stop being Iron Man. He needed to make sure the Iron Man would be around, helping people against their demons like it had helped him.

 _He_ needed to help people against their demons like he had helped himself.

Now how to go about that?

He had two seconds, tops.

He could always just blurt out "I am Iron Man", but no. That wouldn't work.

Taking a deep breath, Tony continued with, "And, he will be available to help anyone who needs it, at any time, no matter what. Iron Man was created to help people, and you can guarantee he will be doing that."

The reporters stood up, shouting out questions. Rhodey stared at him, with equal parts exasperation and pride evident in his gaze. Maria was almost ballistic that he had screwed up another press conference. Ms. Dowe was probably worried that he was going to put himself in even more danger. Coulson was going to kill him slowly.

Pepper was going to kill him quickly, then resurrect him to kill him again.

All Tony could think, as the reporters screamed, as his heart thumped in fear against his ARC reactor, was -

 _What the fuck did I get myself into?_

* * *

 **That last thought is seriously what RDJ's face looks like in that last scene though, below the _yup i just did that screw secret identities_ face. **

**So, yeah. That's it for Iron Man.**

 **Aw, who am I kidding? I'm probs gonna do some IM2 chappies, don't worry!**

 **Or, worry...**

 **I like Iron Man too much.**

 **~Horseluv**

 **P.S. The other day in English, we were writing an alternative storyline for _Tom Sawyer_ for a project and I was throwing out all of these ideas, and one of the guys I was working with was like, "do you write fanfiction or something?"**

 **I'm like, "um no" because it would be considered not normal to write fanfiction in my school**

 **Inside, I'm like "OH MY GOD DOES IT REALLY SHOW THAT MUCH?"**


	8. No need to go outside

***hides behind Iron Man* I'M SORRY! I don't even have an excuse for being so late this time... except for reading instead of writing... but that's not important! Today, we're going to move on to... Ladies and Gentlemen... the INCREDIBLE HULK!**

 **This is based on the Hulk's original origin. All of the sciency stuff is bogus that I made up, except for times and distances. Also, all I could get for the dude who doesn't delay the explosion was "Igor", so I gave him a Russian composer's last name.**

 **Song for this chapter: Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson**

* * *

 _HULK: PART ONE: NO NEED TO GO OUTSIDE_

* * *

"Bruce?" called out a husky voice.

"Yes, Dad?" Bruce shouted back from the other side of the lab.

Brian Banner tapped several keys on his computer setup, before leaning back in his seat and gazing over to his son. "Are you done with the prediction calculations yet?"

The 15-year-old nodded, flashing a piece of paper densely layered with intricate calculations. "The explosion of the gamma bomb should be contained within a 10-kilometer radius," he recited, "and any leftover radiation will wear off and leave no lingering effects on abiotic factors of the environment. There is no evidence as to what will happen to delicate electronics within range, so cameras may or may not be fried. But any biotic factors would be-"

"Mutated or destroyed, depending on proximity, I know," interrupted the older scientist. "We're testing in a confined area, mutation is the least of our worries. Are you sure that those numbers are right? I'll check them, just to be sure."

Bruce, abashed, nodded silently and turned back to his workstation. His dad hardly even noticed when the young scientist tried to show him any extra work, any extra information that could potentially help their experiments. What if these calculations would keep this test from failing, and they still got ignored?

Well, if the project failed, the government would blame the head, who would blame Brian, who would blame Bruce.

A completely predictable cycle.

Well. He couldn't do anything about it right now.

Bruce was about to open up a new file and start on more calculations, but jumped when the door to the crowded room creaked open. A head poked in; Igor Stravinsky, head of the project. Scowling, he snarled, "Hurry up vith zose calculations, Banner. I know you'd love to lay here lazing around, but assembly's almost complete. Ve need to know what exactly zis bomb vill blow up."

"As you command," Brian responded, sarcasm oozing through his words. Bruce could never get that effect.

Stravinsky gave another A+ scowl, then turned and left, back stiff and straight.

Brian growled in frustration, turning back to the screen and typing furiously.

"Dad," Bruce cautiously reasoned, "maybe if you send me just a page of the math -"  
"I can do it myself," Brian dismissed, without a second thought. "I'm a grown man."

Bruce sighed and got to work on his own relatively easy calculations. Would it kill his dad to at least accept a bit of help once in awhile?  
Actually, yes, yes it would.

Brian Banner never let anyone help him anymore.

* * *

 _His mother smiled down at him. "Don't worry, Brucie Bear. I'm just going to the lab to help your father out with his project. You can watch T.V. while we're gone._

 _Younger Bruce had nodded, disappointed that he couldn't tag along, but hey, it wasn't the worst thing that could happen. Flopping onto the cushy couch, he skillfully browsed the T.V, until he found Episode 5 of Star Wars. He had watched it too many times to count, but it never got old._

 _Right in the middle of Han and Leia's entrance to Cloud City, however, a flurry of flames filled up the screen._

 _Younger Bruce gazed at the T.V. in alarm for a few seconds, before realizing that the movie had been replaced with live news footage of a fire, consuming a big white building._

 _Wait… he knew that building…_

* * *

The whole scientific team assembled in a long, narrow room, facing a thin screen. Powering up, the screen displayed a deserted wasteland, with rain pouring down in sheets, where the testing was going to take place. The camera was one of several, placed far from the epicenter of the explosion, but several kilometers within the radius of affected land.

As one, the group snapped to attention when the door opened and in stepped the General. General Thaddeus E. Ross, affectionately known as 'Thunderbolt Ross' for his volatile temper. Behind him trailed several other government officials, and one girl; Betty Ross, the General's daughter. She glanced in Bruce's direction and offered a soft, sweet smile.

General Ross was making some grandiose speech, something about "sacrifices for your country" and "you're even better than Stark Industries", but the young scientist was too busy blushing to care about what the man was saying.

A sharp elbow jabbed into his side, and Bruce jumped in place before hurriedly raising his hand up to salute with the rest of the team, praying that Ross hadn't noticed. No one immediately started scolding him out loud, so he was good. Ross moved to the control panel, motioning to the nearest underling - Bruce - to type in the complex access code. Swallowing, the young scientist tentatively tapped the keys in the order he had memorized, and one large red button in the middle of the setup illuminated with a tantalizing red glow. With a pause for dramatics, Ross punched down the button, and a countdown started. The bomb would be dropped in ten minutes.

The screen flicked to another camera, located right where the bomb would detonate, clock ticking in the corner. Suddenly, a spot of red flashed in the bottom right corner. Bruce focused in on the blob of color; then gasped, as he realized that there was a person - a mere teenager, maybe a year older than him - who had driven into the testing radius, right under where the bomb was going to be dropped in fact. The guy didn't even seem alarmed; more likely than not, he didn't realize that anything was going to happen to him in the next ten minutes - no, nine minutes fifty seconds.

"There's someone out there!" Bruce called out. "The bottom right of the screen!" The other scientists looked to what had caught his attention, then began worriedly muttering among themselves.

Finally, Stravinsky spoke up. "Zat dumb kid isn't our concern. Why bother vith him? There's next to neit chance ve'd get zere in time."

"We have to try," Bruce argued. "Delay the countdown. I'll get him out of range."

"Bruce, that's crazy!" Brian exclaimed. "Too many things could go wrong - it's not our fault he drove onto an active nuclear testing zone!"

"But it is our fault if we stand by and do nothing!" Bruce fired back. Without another word, he shoved his way to the door, slamming it shut behind him and cutting off his father's shouts.

The rain lashed at his skin, soaking through his lab coat in seconds. Pulling out his phone, Bruce opened a compass app. After a few seconds of squinting through the rain, he commandeered a motorcycle (it _totally_ wasn't intentional that he chose Stravinsky's) and drove due northwest. If he moved as fast as possible, he could reach the camera's location within six minutes, and out of range in the next six. Throw in another minute for insurance, plus the minute that had already elapsed, and he needed four extra minutes to get the guy into the bunker; hopefully they could be given to him, if the test was delayed properly.

Little did he know that Stravinsky, delegated the task of sending delaying instructions to the remote missile launcher, was gleefully pressing the 'delete' button every single time he received a new code.

* * *

Blinking his eyes furiously against the rain, Bruce could just barely make out the glow of headlights ahead of him. Another fifteen seconds and he pulled up beside the beat-up vehicle. The older teenager had been staring off into the distance, and he initially didn't turn as Bruce pulled to a sharp stop.

"I told you, I'm done with your bull -" he turned and caught sight of Bruce. "Wait - who are you? Why are you wearing a lab coat?"

Bruce ignored his confused queries, as he exclaimed, "No time! There's a missile test kilometers from here very soon - we need to get out of range of its effects, now."

Thankfully, the older kid leaped into his car without any more questions, and started off, Bruce following close behind. _7 minutes 35 seconds since the countdown started…_ He mentally started ticking off the seconds, hoping they could make it in time.

At 8 minutes 20 seconds, he realized that the teenager's car had moved right next to him, and the window rolled down. The guy tried to yell something out, but the rain and the speed at which they were moving drowned out his voice. Bruce shook his head, pointed forward, and mimed a keep going. Undeterred, Mr. Dumb Teenager pulled even closer, to where Bruce could just make out his voice: "Who are you? How do I know this isn't a prank?"

Bruce shouted back, "I'm Bruce Banner. Do you really want to take any chances? I've helped with this bomb for a year now, I'm probably the only one who bothered to make any real predictions on its effects. If we don't get clear, we're in trouble."

"Another genius teen?" grumbled the guy. "I thought all of them were in an 'unidentified location in Afghanistan.'"

"I don't know Anthony Stark," Bruce replied, exasperated. "I'd like to meet him someday, which I can't do if we're utterly destroyed by this bomb!"

Mr. Teenager finally nodded, swinging away across the now muddy ground. Bruce followed, knowing that soon, they would be running on borrowed time.

 _9 minutes since countdown._

Bruce's thoughts wandered to his father. What was his dad thinking? Worry probably dominated his thoughts - Brian may not have won a Father-of-the-Year award, but Bruce wasn't dumb enough to think that his father didn't care.

 _9 minutes 5 seconds._

If the bomb hadn't been delayed, the preparation would start in 25 seconds, launching the bomb at T- 10 seconds. Detonation at T- 0, leaving them a minute away from safety.

 _9 minutes 10 seconds._

God, he hoped they hadn't screwed up the calculations…

What would his dad do if this all went to hell? Bruce was already expecting a grounding if he got back from this alive, but if he didn't? What if they found his body, buried in the sludge that was the ground around them? What if he survived… but didn't come back the same?

 _9 minutes 15 seconds._

 _A_ few scant seconds and he would know if the efforts of the other scientists had paid off.

 _9 minutes 20 seconds._

Who was he kidding? Of course everything was fine. These were some of the most accomplished scientists of his dad's generation. They could figure out how to delay a bomb for five minutes.

 _9 minutes 25 seconds._

All these thoughts were ramblings that he would look back on and laugh at when they were out of this mess; him, his dad, even Mr. I'm-Too-Good-For-You Teenager, all safe and sound-

 _9 minutes 30 seconds._

 _VROOOO_

A gigantic gate opening, miles away. Unveiling a huge gamma bomb.

Did he actually hear that? Maybe it was just his paranoid imagination -

Mr. Too-Fine Teenager glanced at him worriedly through his car window, asking a silent question - _Did you hear that?_

No. He didn't. It was his imagination. Stupid brain going into stupid situations where stupid scientists failed at their stupid job and got them all killed.

 _9 minutes 40 sec_ \- actually, screw that, the bomb was most likely going off in 20 seconds, they had 20 seconds to get about 2 miles away.

The humming intensified, the insistent sound burrowing into his brain. He could hear Mr. Teenager yell - probably asking _What the ding-dong is that noise_ \- but he couldn't make anything specific out. They had no chance of getting out of range in time.

 _17 seconds._

Time for some improvisation.

Slamming down on the motorbike's horn, Bruce swerved away from the path to the base, closer to the piles of boulders that littered the ground. He could hear Mr. Teenager follow him as he weaved around the structures.

"These rocks have a significant amount of lead in them," the scientist muttered to himself. "If there's a big enough crack in one of these piles, maybe, just maybe…"

 _15 seconds._

There! A long tear in a pile straight ahead. Bruce slided to a stop in front of it, jumping off the bike as Mr. Teenager mirrored his actions, until they were both standing in front of the crack.

 _10 seconds._

"Get in there!" Bruce shouted, shoving the older boy towards the narrow gap.

Shaking his head and trying to stand firm, Mr. Teenager replied, "No! There's not enough room for you!"

 _5 seconds._

"There's not enough time for either of us!" Bruce growled, finally winning the fight of force and sending Mr. Teenager flying into the safety of the crevice.

 _3 seconds._

This was it. All of the surrounding piles were rock-solid. There wasn't even a ditch around here, not that a ditch would do anything against the bomb. He was practically dead meat.

 _2 seconds._

But Mr. Teenager was safe.

 _1 second._

Hey, maybe without Bruce, they wouldn't want to make another bomb.

 _0 seconds._

Wishful thoughts are good to leave off on.

 _Bombs away._

* * *

 **And to my wonderful reviewer, forsakenfoxshadow: Thank you! The driver was on their phone, and my trainer opted to get hit rather than the student on another horse. They're both fine now! And thank you again!**

 **Hopefully I won't disappear for three months before the next update! See ya!**

 **~Horseluv**


End file.
